Stand and Watch It Burn
by EternalStar1
Summary: What would you do if everything you believed was a lie? Three years after the war, everything seems perfect. But when Hermione begins remembering things she isn't supposed to, and someone she isn't supposed to, what will she do? post HBP DMHG RWHG
1. Just Perfect

**AN:** Well, here's a shot at a "real" story. I don't think this will be too long, but we'll see how it goes. For those who have read "Avici," my oneshot, this is sort of a continuation of that... or more like a companion story. It shouldn't be necessary to have read it in order to understand this story... in fact it may be a bit of a "spoiler," though not very much, but reading it would provide a clearer picture, perhaps. Or you could just read it anyway. :D

This story starts out a bit fluffy, but think of this more as an introduction. It gets much more interesting, I promise!

Anyway, on to the story...

* * *

**Stand and Watch It Burn**

**I. Just Perfect**

It'd been three years since the defeat of Lord Voldemort. Good had triumphed, and the world was finally at peace.

For a while, they weren't sure if Harry Potter was going to make it. His injuries were extensive, and after the final battle, Harry remained unconscious for weeks. But of course, being the Boy-Who-Lived, he pulled through and was immediately renamed the Boy-Who-Lived-Again. Despite the entire wizarding community calling for Harry to be their next Minister of Magic (at age seventeen, too!), Harry wisely refused and instead became an Auror as he had always dreamed of. His rise to the head of the office was quick and hardly surprising.

A year after the war, Ron and Hermione announced their engagement, surprising nobody but themselves. Their wedding the following summer had been a beautiful event, attended by the entire Weasley clan (except for Percy, who still refused to reconcile with the family), staff from Hogwarts, assorted personnel from the Ministry, all the members of the Order of the Phoenix, and Harry, of course. Hermione had gotten the wedding she had always dreamed of. Her dress wasn't fussy and had simple lines, but it was gorgeous and flattered Hermione's figure. The bridesmaids wore lavender silk dresses, and the aisles were decked with matching lavender ribbon and white roses – Hermione's favorite. Everything was as it should be.

Just a few months ago, Hermione had given birth to their first child, a beautiful little boy with gingery hair and sparkling blue eyes. The fight over his name before he was born was monumental.

"_No_, Hermione, no matter what you think I am NOT going to have my child named after some stupid Muggle quack…"

"He is not a quack, Ronald Weasley, he was brilliant. What do you know about Muggles anyway? And the name is…"

"STUPID." Ron's face was redder than his hair. "Who names their kid PLATO, Hermione? PLATO. It's… it's like a planet or something."

"That's Pluto," Hermione said, extremely irritated.

Ron scoffed. "Close enough. Anyway, can't you just imagine the kids making fun of him at school? Plato Weasley. You've got to be kidding me, Hermione."

"What's wrong with that?"

"What ISN'T wrong with that? Now, my choice…"

"Ron, we are not naming our son after a Quidditch player. End of discussion."

"But Quinlan O'Leary is one of the most brilliant Keepers today! Just think of it, Hermione. Our son could play for Ireland one day and make a spectacular save to lead Ireland to another World Cup… just like Quinlan!"

Hermione was not impressed. "No. The name Quinlan is terrible."

"No more terrible than Playdoh."

"_Plato_."

"Whatever."

"Fine," Hermione said. She grabbed the much abused baby name book on the coffee table. "I'll just flip through and shout out names and you tell me if you like them or not."

"Fair enough."

"Tristan."

Ron scrunched his nose. "Too girly."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ronan?"

"Nah."

"Kyle?"

Ron tilted his head. "Kyle Weasley." He made a face.

Hermione laughed. "Yeah, I'm not too fond of that either. Let's see…" She flipped to the front. "Aiden."

"Aiden Weasley. Merlin, that's brilliant. Whazzit mean?" Ron snatched the book from Hermione and peered at the pages. "'Little fire' eh?"

Hermione smiled. "I thought it'd be appropriate, since he'll probably have your ridiculous red hair."

Ignoring Hermione's insult, Ron placed a hand on her swollen belly and whispered to his unborn son, "What do you think little guy? Aiden?" Feeling a soft kick on his hand, Ron smiled and declared, "Aiden it is."

"Aiden _Plato_ Weasley."

"You're mad, woman. Absolutely starking mad. Give him that middle name and Aiden will hate you for life."

x x x

It was May, and a lovely day. It was nearly five o'clock. Hermione, on her way to the Burrow, bustled around the house as she prepared herself and Aiden for the trip. It was to be a huge dinner and sort of a bit of a reunion.

"Hey, sweetie," Hermione cooed as Aiden waved his arms and giggled. "Are you ready to go visit Gran-Gran and Grandpa? Cuz they're ready to see you, yes they are! What would you like to wear today? Hmm…" Hermione started opening drawers full of baby clothes. "How about this one? You like this shirt, don't you Den?" She held up a small white cotton shirt with a small golden snitch on it. (She had taken Ron clothes shopping for Aiden once. He had pointed and started gurgling incoherently. Ron, that is… not Aiden.) "Yeah, okay, up you go." She stood Aiden up and slipped on his t-shirt and then helped him put on his dark blue slacks. Grabbing the already packed baby bag, she slung it over her shoulder and cradled Aiden in her other arm. "Now we're ready."

Donwstairs in their living room, Hermione threw some Floo powder into the fireplace. "The Burrow," she said loudly. The flames burst green, and Hermione stepped in.

Despite the fact the Weasleys now had considerably more money – Mr. Weasley had gotten promoted and all the Weasley children were working now – the Burrow had hardly changed, and Hermione was glad of this. She thought it was perfect the way it was.

The kitchen was bustling with action. Mrs. Weasley was cooking up a storm. The moment Hermione came in though, she immediately dropped all she was doing to inspect her youngest grandson.

"Oh look at you," the fussy matriarch said, gently taking Aiden from Hermione. "You've grown so much since I've last seen you!"

"You saw him three days ago," Hermione said, laughing.

"Oh, I know but it seems so long, doesn't it, Aiden," Mrs. Weasley said, turning to Aiden who giggled in response.

Tonks, who was also in the kitchen, grinned. "He's beautiful, Hermione."

"Isn't he? Hermione looked at her tiny son who was now being ridiculously spoiled by his grandmother. "I know I may be biased… but I think he's wonderful."

"That would be because he is, aren't you?" Mrs. Weasley cut in. "You know, he looks just like Ron when Ron was a baby. Yes you do, yes you do!" She tickled him. "Oh, you darling child. Here," she said, handing Aiden back to Hermione. "I should go back to preparing dinner."

"Need any help?" Tonks asked eagerly.

"Er… that's… sweet of you, dear, but I'm fine, thank you. Why don't you and Hermione go out into the living room and chat?"

"I can help set up the table," Tonks volunteered, smiling devilishly.

"No, that's quite all right," Mrs. Weasley said, her tone growing insistent. "Two of you, out!" she said, scurrying them out with her hands.

Out in the living room, Tonks broke into a huge grin. "I do that to agitate her at times," she confided.

"Do what?"

"Offer to help. I'm such a klutz, and Molly's such a dear… she's afraid to hurt my feelings."

Hermione laughed. "Oh, Tonks." Tonks shrugged and grinned again. "How are you? I haven't seen you in a few weeks. How's Professor Lupin?"

"Oh." Tonks's grin faded slightly. "I'm good. Remus is… still being broody. You'd think three years after the war he'd get over the whole 'I'm a werewolf and I'm too dangerous and poor and old and blah blah blah' thing, but no."

"Still?" Hermione looked disappointed. "I thought he'd have more sense than that."

Tonks laughed. "He's very smart, Hermione. But sometimes the smartest people have absolutely no sense when it comes to their own emotions. He's been better lately. We've talked about getting married and starting a family, but he's still not sure. He thinks it'd be a bad idea for me to be married to a werewolf. I don't know why he'd think such a thing." Tonks gave a half-hearted smile, trying to indicate that she was joking.

"It's just a matter of time," Hermione said. "He'll come around. I heard he has a teaching position at Hogwarts again? Defense of the Dark Arts?"

Tonks nodded eagerly. "Yes, he's really excited about… well, first of all, a steady job, and also working with kids again. Remus loves kids," Tonks said wistfully. Hermione could tell that Tonks was having her _own_ kids running around. "Anyway… I heard through the grapevine - " Hermione shot Tonks a look. "- okay, I heard from Remus – that you, Ms. Granger, also have been offered a teaching position at Hogwarts as well."

Hermione nodded. "McGonagall wants me to teach Transfiguration."

"You'd be brilliant at it, Hermione. And everyone knows you're dying to be a professor. Professor… would you be Professor Granger or Professor Weasley?"

"Oh, I don't know," Hermione said, forcing out a laugh. "I'm not sure if I'm even going to take the job. With Aiden now, and Ron settling in at his new position in the Auror Office, I'm not sure if this is the best timing."

"Where is Ron?"

"He and Harry are still at work. They'll be coming once they're finished. Wait… why aren't you working?"

Tonks grinned mischievously. "I'm hardly as hard working as Harry. And Ron usually stays when Harry does. Besides, I took a day off today. I wasn't feeling well, and it's the day before the full moon, so I thought I'd spend some time with Remus… the git."

"I heard Harry's making some sort of announcement tonight. At least, Harry dropped not-so-subtle hints that he might be this morning. I wonder –" At this precise moment, Ginny came bursting into the living room. "Gin?"

Ginny caught sight of Hermione sitting on the couch and grabbed her arm. Wide-eyed, Hermione managed to hand Aiden to Tonks before being dragged out by Ginny and up several flights of stairs into Ginny's room.

"Ginny, what's going on?"

"Oh… my… GOD, Hermione. I am so… I AM SO NERVOUS. I'VE NEVER BEEN THIS NERVOUS IN MY LIFE. OH. MY. GOD." Ginny was screaming nonsensically as Hermione tried to shush her and calm her down.

"Ginny, I can't understand you if you keep screaming."

But nothing seemed to be able to console the hysterical Ginny. She started pacing and mumbling under her breath. After a few minutes, she threw herself on her bed and lay there, staring at the ceiling. "Oh, God," she said. After a few seconds of silence, she burst out laughing.

Now, Hermione was scared. Sitting next to the redhead lying down, she leaned over to look her in the eyes. "Um… Gin?"

"Hermione, he did it."

"Who?"

"Harry!"

"Did what? Oh… Oh!" Everything started clicking in Hermione's mind. "No!"

"Yes!" Ginny leapt up and grabbed Hermione's hands. "He asked me this morning!"

"Oh, Ginny!" Hermione started jumping up and down with her friend. "I'm so excited for you! Is that what he's announcing tonight?"

Ginny grinned. "Yes. Oh God." Her face paled. "He's going to announce it… with everyone there… Oh, Hermione, what if they hate him!"

Now it was Hermione's turn to laugh. "Ginny… It's Harry. Everyone loves Harry… well, save for Snape. But he doesn't count. Your dad treats Harry like his seventh son. Your mom _adores_ Harry, and half of your brothers went to school with Harry. Ron is Harry's best friend. You have nothing to be nervous about. Everyone will be so happy for you two."

"It's _different_, Hermione. He's asking to marry me now. It's one thing for us to be dating, but now getting married? What if my dad doesn't allow us to get married? What if he says I'm too young? What if he says Harry's not good enough? I _love_ Harry. What would I do? What if – "

"Gin. Stop. No one is going to say Harry's not good enough. You're being silly."

"You're right, Hermione. You always are.

x x x

Hermione laughed silently to herself when Harry and Ron finally Apparated into the Burrow. Harry looked so shaky and nervous she almost felt bad for her friend. You'd think that after defeating one of the most feared wizards in the world, Harry would be much more confident, but no, Harry was still slightly nervous, slightly awkward. It was endearing, really.

Throughout the dinner, she could see Harry twitching and shooting nervous glances over at Ginny who pointedly refused to look at him. Everyone else was busy enjoying the delicious dinner that Mrs. Weasley had laid out on the table and didn't notice the two nervous lovebirds.

On the other side, Hermione saw Tonks leaning on Remus's shoulder, and the two of them were smiling contentedly. Tonks had a happy twinkle in her eye, and Hermione just knew everything would work out for the two of them.

Fred and George were sitting next to each other across the table from Hermione with their wives, Angelina and Alicia, respectively, on the other side of them. Angelina was heavily pregnant (seven months, Hermione guessed), and Alicia was tending to the two small identical boys sitting next to her. _Another generation of Weasley twins,_ Hermione thought bemusedly.

Near the head of the table, next to Mr. Weasley, were Bill, Fleur, and their little girl, Isabelle. Isabelle was a lovely girl of three that looked decidedly like her mother except for her strawberry blonde hair. Mr. Weasley was talking affectionately to his only granddaughter, asking her what she was doing and what she would like for her upcoming birthday. Hermione smiled at the adoring way Isabelle looked at her grandfather. Bill and Fleur were eating, occasionally laughing at the ridiculous promises that the doting grandfather made to the little girl.

Fleur was much better now in the sense she was less uppity and arrogant, but that didn't prevent the occasional nasty remark about her behind her back. She never would fully lose her nickname Phlegm, Hermione realized. They had all been surprised when Fleur had excitedly announced that she was pregnant. "I thought she wouldn't want to ruin her figure," Ginny had grumbled. But no, Fleur had wanted a large family, "Much like zis famuhlee!" she had squealed. So far, they only had had Isabelle, but Bill had assured Hermione that they were "practicing" and that he was sure "many more" were on the way. Hermione shuddered at that memory. That was too much information, if there was ever such a thing.

Charlie was sitting near Mrs. Weasley, Kingsley, and Mundungus on the other side. They were chatting amiably about the dragons Charlie had seen when Mrs. Weasley had decided to intercede.

"So have you met any nice girls in Romania?" Mrs. Weasley tried to ask innocently.

Charlie groaned. "Mum…"

"I'm just worried about you Charlie! You're not getting any younger…"

"Mum, I'm only twenty-six."

"Darling, really…"

"Hermione?" A voice interrupted her thoughts and she pulled out of her haze.

"Huh… Ron?"

Ron smiled. "You look deep in thought," he teased.

Hermione sighed. "It's just… everything's so perfect right now, you know?"

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "You know…"

"Wait, Ron" Hermione said, putting her hand on his arm. She grinned widely. "I think Harry's about to make his big announcement."

Harry stood up and said uncertainly, "Er… everybody?" The conversation and laughter continued. Harry shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Hey!" he said, a little too loudly this time. Everyone at the table jumped and turned to look at Harry who instantly flushed crimson. "Oops," he chuckled nervously. "Um, as some of you know I have an announcement to make." He cleared his throat. "You see – " cough "- I, er… -" cough cough "- well, I –"

"Out with it, Potter!" Fred called out good-naturedly, throwing a napkin over at Harry.

Harry took the napkin and started fidgeting with it. He was staring down at his feet as he continued to stutter. "Er… you see… Oh, bugger. I'll just say it." He looked up at everyone's expectant faces and said too loudly, "Ginny and I are getting married." He immediately sat down. Ginny covered her face with her hands and sank down in her chair. "Oh, God," Hermione heard her mumble.

There was a stunned silence. Every single Weasley male was staring at Harry, boring holes into the poor boy who was determinedly not looking anyone in the eye. The very pregnant pause was finally broken by Mrs. Weasley who broke into tears and soon everyone was cheering. Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, and Ron had all jumped out of their chairs and were by Harry, shaking his hand, ruffling his hair, patting him on the shoulder, and making assorted threats. Mr. Weasley was quite teary-eyed as he hugged Ginny who was now smiling brightly.

Remus stood up and cleared his throat. He seemed rather taken while remaining completely calm at the same time. He smiled broadly at Harry beneath the pile of Weasleys and raised his glass. "To Harry and Ginny," he said with much emotion in his voice."

"To Harry and Ginny!"

x x x

"Aiden down?"

"Yeah, it was a long day and he was tired. He fell asleep pretty quickly," Hermione said as she brushed her hair in front of the mirror. She sighed. "He gets bigger every day. God, he's growing up fast." She climbed into bed next to Ron and laid down, content. A comfortable silence passed between them.

"Did you know?"

"Hmm?" Hermione rolled over on her side to look at Ron lying next to her.

Ron smiled and kissed Hermione softly. "Did you know before? That Harry asked Ginny to marry him."

"She told me when I got there. So sort of."

"Mm. No wonder he was so nervous today at work, asking me ridiculous questions like, 'You're my best mate, aren't you Ron?' and 'You'll support me no matter what, won't you?' Merlin, I thought he was going to tell me he was pregnant or something!" Ron and Hermione laughed. Ron paused. "You're right, Hermione. Everything _is_ so perfect," he finally said. He tried to stifle a yawn. "I'm sleepy," he said. "_Nox_." The lights promptly went out. "Goodnight, Hermione." He kissed her one more time before resting his head back on the pillow. "Sweet dreams, love."

x x x

_Hermione woke, feeling someone's arm draped loosely over hers. It was a feeling completely foreign to her and yet it was a feeling that seemed perfectly right. She felt safe, warm, and protected, like she was where she belonged._

_The person she was sleeping next to felt her move and woke up. "Hermione?"_

_That voice… it wasn't Ron's. Whose was it? Hermione desperately tried to place it. It was familiar, but one she hadn't heard in years. She was sleeping next to him so clearly it was someone she was close with… but she hadn't been with anyone other than Ron so how could it be…?_

"_Hermione?" the person asked again, slightly more uncertain. The speaker was male, most probably young, Hermione detected. There was something decidedly _very _familiar about this voice._

_She turned and before her was the shock of a lifetime. Laying next to her half-naked (Or completely naked? She couldn't tell. The bottom half of his body was covered by sheets.) was none other than Draco Malfoy._

_She expected to feel disgust, shock, anger, confusion – any of those - but instead, she felt _happy_. Hermione leaned in and kissed Malfoy deeply. He kissed her back, wrapping an arm around her neck and pulling her in closer. _What am I doing?_ Hermione wondered, her head screaming at her. Still, it felt so right, and like she had done it so many times before. She pulled back and looked at Malfoy who had a surprised and disappointed look in his eyes. "What?" he asked._

"_You already had your fun tonight," she said teasingly. Malfoy looked at her insolently, much like a spoiled child would. Hermione laughed and kissed him softly on the forehead. "Go to sleep." She turned and laid her head down._

_Malfoy kissed her bare shoulder softly. "Goodnight, Hermione."_

"_Goodnight, Draco."_

x x x

Hermione woke with a start. Her body was covered in cold sweat and she looked around her, completely confused. "What…?"

She was in her home, in the pajamas she wore every night. Laying next to her was a sleeping Ron, in the pajamas _he_ wore every night, mumbling incoherent nothings. Hermione ran down the hallway to Aiden's room and found him sleeping in his crib, curled up in one corner and hugging the little stag Harry had given him.

Everything was where it should be. Nothing had changed. What then…?

"It was just a dream," Hermione said firmly to herself, walking back to her bedroom. "It was just a dream."

But why did it feel so _real_?


	2. Nothing to Worry About

**Stand and Watch It Burn**

**II. Nothing to Worry About**

Two weeks passed, and Hermione slowly forgot about the dream. Stress, she figured. Or maybe, it was just her overactive imagination at work again. Whatever the case, Hermione pushed it to the back of her mind. It was unimportant, she reasoned. There were better things to worry about. Like whether or not she should accept Professor McGonagall's offer. Or Aiden, who was growing bigger by the second. Or Ginny's and Harry's upcoming wedding. Yes, Hermione concluded. There was no point in worrying over a silly little dream. That would be illogical – and Hermione, naturally, was all about logic.

So she willingly forgot it, slipping back to her routine.

Hermione was a very fastidious person, especially when compared to her laidback husband. She had a routine that she followed every morning. Every day she would wake up at 6:40 AM to feed and change Aiden. Having done that, she would proceed to the kitchen at 7:15 AM to prepare breakfast for Ron. Sometimes Ron would wake on his accord, but more often than not, Hermione would have to wake him up at 7:30 AM. The two of them, accompanied by Aiden in his high chair, would enjoy their breakfast (usually eggs and bacon) together while Hermione perused _The Daily Prophet_, reading off funny bits to Ron. Then at 7:55 AM, Hermione would have to remind Ron that he had 5 minutes to get to work before he was late, and at 7:59 AM, a stumbling Ron would hastily kiss Hermione and Aiden goodbye before he Apparated to the Ministry.

That was Hermione's routine every morning, to the minute. At times it felt constricting, but Hermione liked the predictability of having a schedule. She always knew what would happen next, and knowing, for Hermione, was the greatest comfort. She didn't like the feeling of not knowing something.

So, one morning, when she came across a peculiar headline in _The Daily Prophet_, she frowned.

"What is it?" Ron asked absentmindedly when he saw the look on her face. Most of his attention was currently focused on his little son, whom he was amusing by flinging bits of uneaten pancake at. Aiden giggled maniacally at his father's antics.

"Stop that," Hermione said, pulling away Ron's plate of mangled food. "You're setting a bad example." As she spoke, Aiden had found some leftover bits on the table of his highchair and was flinging them back at Ron. Hermione shot Ron a nasty look. "See? Look what you've done. Aiden, Daddy is a bad, bad boy. Don't throw food, okay, sweetie?"

Ron scowled. "I am NOT a bad boy. And stop talkin to me like your'e my mum."

"You are," Hermione said, not bothering to look up. "Now finish your breakfast."

Snatching his plate back from Hermione, Ron scarfed down the rest of his breakfast while giving her a defiant look. He soon noticed, however, that Hermione was distracted.

"Okay, Hermione," Ron said, swallowing the last bit of bacon. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Hermione said, shaking her head. Ron gave her a disbelieving look. "Well, not _nothing_ I suppose, it's just… What ever happened to Draco Malfoy."

Ron froze. "What?" he asked after a moment's pause.

"Draco Malfoy… what happened to him?"

"'Spect he ended up in Azkaban like the rest of that lot," Ron growled.

"Yeah," Hermione said. "He did. Look." She showed Ron the newspaper.

**_Malfoy to be Released?_**

_It has been three years since Harry Potter defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and the aftershocks of his reign of terror can still be felt. Yesterday, the Ministry received a request to review the sentence of the man who was largely considered his right hand man, Draco Malfoy._

_Malfoy, 21, was sentenced to life in Azkaban after his successful capture. He was tried for crimes of terror and murder and was unanimously found guilty. But, Malfoy's attorney argues that new evidence will prove Malfoy's innocence and hopefully earn him a pardon. _

"_Draco Malfoy was not working for the Dark Lord," he states affirmatively. "He was not on the dark side."_

_Many, of course, are skeptical. _

"_Lucius Malfoy was a known Death Eater," says Tiernan O'Malley, a prominent member of Wizengamot. "I don't see why we should expect his son to be any different."_

_Shortly before You-Know-Who's fall, Malfoy was apprehended by… _Story continues on Page 13

Ron stared at the paper a long while, longer than even he would need to read it. Finally, Hermione asked, "Well?"

Jerking his head up, Ron asked, "Well what?"

"Do you know how he ended up in Azkaban? I thought I should remember, but for some reason, I'm trying to and I can't… in fact it feels like something's missing, but I don't know what…" Hermione trailed off.

"It's nothing," he said quickly. "Malfoy was just another of You-Know-Who's minions and probably just got rounded up when we caught them. Really, Hermione," he said, his gaze turning to meet hers, "Don't worry about it, okay? It's not worth it. _He's_ not worth it." With that, Ron got up from the breakfast table and walked over to the fireplace and chucked in the newspaper. He stood there for a while, watching the paper burn.

"I wasn't finished reading that," Hermione said, completely annoyed.

"You'll read it and just fret, knowing you," Ron replied. He kissed her on the head. "I should go to work." He straightened and, with a loud crack, disappeared.

Hermione blinked. It was only 7:52 AM. Ron had left seven whole minutes early.

x x x

Harry was equally shocked to see Ron barge in through the doors early. Usually, Ron was staggering into the office, grabbing a stitch on his side, desperately trying to grab his breath and mutter some apology for being late, all at the same time. Not today. Ron came in a few minutes early. He had shoved the doors open and plopped down on the chair at his desk.

Something had to be wrong. A fight with Hermione? No, that couldn't be it, Harry decided. If they had been fighting, Ron would have come to complain to him about it by now. Maybe it wasn't anything important. But Ron's stony silence combined with his early arrival made Harry uneasy, and so he decided to approach his friend.

"Hey, Ron," Harry said, knocking on his cubicle. Ron jumped up a mile in his seat.

"Merlin!" Ron spun around on his chair. "Oh, Harry, it's just you."

Harry stared, now really concerned. He leaned against the wall and asked, "What's wrong, Ron? Er… It's not about me and Ginny is it? Look, I'm sorry, I wanted to tell you before, but…"

"Oh, no no." Ron laughed a bit too forcefully. "You're my best mate! You're like a brother to me! Well… come to think of it it'd be rather weird if you _were _my brother cuz Ginny's my sister, then you'd be marrying _your_…"

"Okay," Harry said, impatiently, cutting Ron off in the middle of his rambling. "Then what is it?"

Ron shifted. "Did you…" He cleared his throat. "Have you seen _The Daily Prophet_?"

Harry scoffed and crossed his arms. "I haven't read that rag since we were in our fifth year… I thought you stopped reading it too."

"Well, Hermione reads it at breakfast sometimes, and it's amusing, so I don't mind. You know how she feels about staying informed and knowing everything and making the rest of us look bad."

Harry laughed. "Well, what about _The Daily Prophet_?"

"There was a story," Ron said. "About Draco Malfoy."

There was a silence. "I see," Harry said slowly, measuring his words. "Well… what… what did it say?"

"They're reviewing his sentence… Merlin, Harry, what if they let him go?"

Harry looked at Ron who was clearly distressed now. "Do you want me to do something about it?"

Ron turned back to face his desk, propped his elbows up on the desk, and let his head drop into his hands. "I don't know. I really don't."

Sighing, Harry walked over to where Ron was now mumbling under his breath, kneeled down, and slung a comforting arm over his friend. "Look, I'm sure it's nothing to worry about…"

"Nothing to worry about!" Ron lifted his head up out of his hands. "Nothing to worry about? You honestly believe that Harry? Hermione and I have this perfect life together, and… This could ruin everything, Harry…"

"No," Harry said. "You're being ridiculous. Hermione loves you, and you love her. She won't…"

"_She_ asked about _him_ this morning," Ron sputtered. Harry raised his eyebrows. "I mean, probably in relation to the article…"

"It was because of the article," Harry said firmly. "There's nothing to worry about."

Ron sighed. "You're probably right, Harry. I'm worrying over nothing."

Harry grinned. "Yeah. So… really now," his tone now serious, "_do_ you want me to do something about it?"

Ron stared at the ceiling for a while, considering slowly. "No," he finally said. "No, I reckon we'll be just fine."

"I'm sure you will," Harry agreed.

x x x

"Crimson and gold?" Ginny examined the swatches spread out on the coffee table. Scooting to the edge of the sofa, she leaned over them to examine them more carefully. She crinkled her freckled nose. "I know we're all Gryffindors and everything, and I'm proud of that, but is that too much?"

"It's fine," Hermione said absentmindedly.

"It is a late summer wedding," Ginny continued, "so would dark colors would be appropriate? I actually think a dark purple would look rather fetching. Purple bridesmaid dresses? In late August? And gold as a complimentary color. What do you think Hermione?"

"Sounds good."

"And I was thinking of embellishing our wedding cake with the words 'Slytherin Pride' and inviting Michael Corner and Viktor Krum to sing at the reception."

"Mmhmm." Hermione was staring at the ceiling.

Ginny snorted. "Okay," she said, putting the swatches of fabric down. "What is it? You're obvious distracted."

Hermione sighed. She and Ginny were supposed to be picking colors and fabrics for the wedding, but her mind was elsewhere. Something about the morning's events had left her feeling like something wasn't right. She wasn't quite sure what it was and she hated that. Worse, it felt like something she _had _known… but it wasn't like her to forget things. Even unimportant things. Hermione's memory was impeccably keen and part of the reason she always did so well in her studies. So that couldn't be it… could it?

"I feel like I'm forgetting something," Hermione finally admitted after a long pause. "Something really important. I'm not sure what it is."

Ginny laughed. "_You_?" she asked. "Forget something? That's not possible. Ron? Yes. But you? You remember _everything_. Remember that time when you, me, Harry, and Ron were playing that Hogwarts trivia game that you _insisted _we buy? God, we should have known better. Figures you'd know every answer since you practically memorized _Hogwarts, a History_. Did you make the game, Hermione?"

Hermione looked slightly miffed and was about to answer when a baby's cries pierced the air. "Ah," Hermione said, jumping up. "Aiden's up from his nap."

Ginny's eyes lit up. "Oooh, can I go get him?" she asked excitedly. She started bouncing on the sofa and tugging at Hemrione's hands. "Please, please, please please…."

Trying very hard to hold back her smile, Hermione dramatically rolled her eyes and said, "All right, fine." Ginny squealed and bolted off to Aiden's room. Smiling, Hermione slowly followed. She stood in the doorframe, watching Ginny gently lifting up Aiden and then cradling him against her chest.

"You'll make a wonderful mum one day," Hermione said.

Ginny looked up at Hermione and smiled broadly. "Yeah? I hope so," she said, looking back down at Aiden. "I really do want kids."

"How many? Seven?" Hermione teased.

Ginny looked horrified. "Oh no! I don't think I could handle seven. God. I don't know how Mum did it without keeling over, but I know I certainly couldn't do that. Two, maybe three. I don't know. Here," she said, walking over to Hermione and putting Aiden into her arms. "He wants his mum."

Hermione took Aiden and sat down in the rocking chair in his room. Moving slowly back and forth, she stared down at her little son who looked up at her contentedly. Ginny stood behind them, and for a long while they remained silent.

"Do you have any idea," Ginny said softly, finally breaking the silence, "what it might be? That you're forgetting."

"Sort of," Hermione replied uncertainly. "It sounds crazy, and it doesn't make sense…"

"Yes?" prompted Ginny when Hermione stopped for a few seconds.

"Well, I think," Hermione started. She cut herself off and seemed to be gathering her thoughts. "I _think_ it might have to do something with Draco Malfoy." She then went on to relate what had happened earlier that morning, with the headline and Ron's strange reaction and how Ron broke schedule and left for work early _on his own accord_. And after hesitating for a while, she shared the dream she had had two weeks ago about Malfoy, how she had addressed him by his first name… how he had called her Hermione rather than Mudblood or Granger. (She conveniently left out the fact that she and he were in bed together, most probably naked.)

"It's just all so strange," Hermione said. "Well, maybe they have nothing to do with each other, and maybe it's all just one big coincidence, but isn't that a bit too _big_ of a coincidence? Maybe I'm just imagining things, connecting things that aren't there." She shook her head. "It must be stress. And lack of a stimulating job. My brain's on overdrive from lack of work." Hermione groaned and looked up at the ceiling. "Maybe I really should take up McGonagall's offer." She turned behind her to look at Ginny and was shocked by the look on the redhead's face. "Gin?"

Ginny's features were frozen in a look of disdain and… fear? "Ginny, are you all right?"

"Oh!" Ginny started. She looked down at the floor for a moment, and when she looked back up at Hermione, her face was now collected and calm. "It's probably nothing, Hermione. You're probably just bored. As if Draco Malfoy could be anything other than a snot-faced pig-headed twerp who cares about anything other than himself. Don't let him bother you, Hermione. Ever." Ginny's voice was adamant now.

Sighing, Hermione turned back around to face her little son. "You're right," she whispered. Leaning in to rub her nose on Aiden's cheek, she murmured, "It's probably nothing."

x x x

Miles away in Azkaban, Draco Malfoy was curled up in a corner of his cell. It was cold, and the darkness of the prison gave no indication of the beautiful day it was outside. Draco lifted his head to stare at the grey ceiling, the same grey ceiling he stared at every day. He ran his fingers along the stone wall and traced them along the lines of mortar. The walls seemed so impenetrable.

He stretched out his legs from beneath him and leaned against the wall. For the next few hours, he hardly moved, except to whisper one word.

"Hermione."

* * *

**AN:** Yay, chapter two. Oooh, and Draco makes his appearance. Originally, I hadn't intended for him to show up in this fic at all, but I've decided it'd be more angsty and exciting if he did. Yay angst! So what happened between Draco and Hermione? For those of you who've read Avici, you already know. If you don't want to be spoiled, don't read Avici. Though, I don't think it'll be particularily shocking... but it shall be interesting nonetheless. Well, if you please, review? They really make my day. 


	3. Being Alive

**Stand and Watch It Burn**

**III. Being Alive**

The living room in Hermione's and Ron's home was silent save for the clicking of Hermione's knitting needles and the occasional rustle of papers. Ron was sitting on the sofa, bent over the coffee table, busy looking over some paperwork he'd brought home that day. Hermione sat next to him, counting stitches and referencing her knitting book constantly. This was her first sweater (for Aiden) and it was shaping up marvelously. She was halfway done with the back. Hermione held up the swatch of knitted fabric and examined it.

"What do you think?"

"Hmm?" Ron responded absentmindedly, not looking up from his papers.

"I'm knitting a sweater for Aiden," Hermione said, waving it like a little green flag. "What do you think?"

Ron smiled bemusedly. "I wonder if this is how my mum and dad were when we were babies."

Hermione groaned. "Oh, Ron, I'm becoming your mum!"

Ron pretended to be offended. "What's wrong with being like my mum?!"

"Nothing," Hermione laughed. She leaned against his shoulder. "Your mum is wonderful. She did raise six wonderful children after all."

"Seven."

"No, six. You… you're not so wonderful."

"Hey!" Ron cried out indignantly. Hermione laughed and scooched back to her side of the sofa. She picked up her needles again but didn't start knitting just yet. Hermione stared down at her work. Was she really becoming like Mrs. Weasley? Hermione had been the brightest witch in her year at Hogwarts. And for all that, here she was, a housewife, knitting baby sweaters.

x x x

"Do you understand the terms of your release, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco looked up with tired eyes at the man sitting on the other side of the desk. Although he was more than twice Draco's age, he looked much younger. It certainly helped that he wore midnight blue robes that brought out the color of his eyes, framed by rimless glasses, while Draco was dressed in tattered ashen grey robes that did little but emphasize Draco's drawn complexion. The man had not had to endure years in Azkaban. There he sat, smiling, as if without a worry in the world. How Draco envied him.

"Yes, Mr. Davids. You've only repeated them to me five times. Contrary to popular belief, I am not stupid. I assure you, Azkaban has not addled my brains," Draco said dryly.

Mr. Davids looked at Draco sympathetically. Unable to bear his pitying gaze, Draco looked away, staring instead at the bookshelves in Mr. Davids's office. "Draco," Mr. Davids said softly, "I know this is a hard time for you. You have been through a lot and it can't have been easy. But you're free now. On conditions, of course, but your name will be cleared. Malfoy Manor has been put under your name and all your family treasure has been transferred to your account. Life will be like it was before Azkaban," Mr. Davids said, smiling.

Draco now examined the titles on the bookshelves. _A History of Magical Roots in Essex_? Fascinating.

"The courts have ruled you innocent. Isn't that what you wanted Draco?"

_Flavors of the Rainbow: The History of the Jellybean_, _The Building of Diagon Alley 1560-1983, Gobstones: A Squib's Guide_… absolutely enthralling…

"I am always available to talk if you need it, Draco," Mr. Davids continued.

"Are we finished, sir?" Draco asked emotionlessly.

Mr. Davids sighed. "Yes, Draco, you may go."

As Draco opened the door, Mr. Davids called out, "Please stay in touch, Draco. My wife and I would love to have you over for dinner some time." Draco stopped, but didn't respond. "And congratulations, Draco. You're free."

Draco walked out of the office and closed the door quietly. Free? Hardly. That was one thing that kind-hearted oaf would never understand. He was far too noble and believed too much in the goodness of humanity. Davids was the only lawyer who was willing to take Draco's case. He was fully convinced that Draco had been wrongly tried and was innocent. Davids was no crackpot either. He was one of the best the wizarding world had to offer. Davids was absolutely brilliant at what he did, and a very intelligent man. But he had too much trust in forgiveness. He thought by getting Wizengamot to overturn Draco's conviction, he would be giving Draco his freedom. But once convicted in the eyes of the public, a person could never be free. Draco knew this all too well.

Wandering down the Ministry halls, Draco tried to orient himself. It had been so long since he was last in the Ministry. Where the bloody hell was he? Muggle Relations… Magical Games and Sports… Auror Office… Magical Misuse… Ah. There it was. The exit.

Draco placed his hand on the door handle, but didn't turn it. This was it. He was finally walking out.

Draco shielded his eyes as the sunlight he had not seen for two years blinded his eyes. Fresh air filled his lungs when he gasped in shock. A soft breeze floated by, brushing his cheek and ruffling his hair. Dropping his hand from his eyes, Draco took a look around him. Sun. Sky. Flowers. People.

So this was being alive.

x x x

Harry leaned back in his chair as he listened to what Dean Thomas was telling him. Dean, who worked in the Magical Games and Sports Department (Dean was constantly trying to institute football, but his pleas were constantly laughed off), had come rushing in to his office blabbering and gasping at the same time. Harry had to wait for Dean to catch his breath before he could finally understand what Dean had been trying to say. And even then, Harry wasn't sure he heard right.

"Are you _sure_?" Harry asked again.

Dean sighed. "Yes, Harry, you've asked me five times now. Unlike you," Dean said, reaching over to poke Harry's glasses, "I have extremely good vision. I know what I saw. Draco Malfoy was wandering around the Ministry. He was wearing rags, but he was still walking with that old Malfoy arrogance, and his freakishly blonde hair is unmistakable."

"Then that means his conviction was overturned," Harry concluded, shaking his head. "How…?"

Dean shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. Rumor is it he had Davids on the case. I've been trying to gather up info on it, but it's hard to come by. Seems like the people higher up are trying to keep it down. They don't want the public to know they just set a Death Eater free."

Harry was still in disbelief. "The evidence… the evidence we had was overwhelming. There should have been absolutely no way he could have gotten out of it."

"And yet he did," Dean said grimly.

"Are you _sure_, Dean? I'm sure that if Malfoy really was set free, I'd hear something about parole, you know, as Head of the Auror's Office and everything."

Dean sighed exaggeratedly. "Yes, Harry. It absolutely was Malfoy I saw."

Harry opened his mouth to ask Dean again (for the seventh time) if he was _really _sure when a knock at the door interrupted him.

"Um, Mr. Potter, sir?" A woman's head popped in through the crack of the ajar door.

"Yes, Susan?"

"A Mr. Alan Davids is here to see you."

Dean gave Harry a triumphant I-told-you-so look. Harry ignored him and merely said, "Okay, Susan, show him in."

When Susan left, Dean looked at Harry and smirked widely. "Yeah, yeah," Harry said, cutting Dean off before he could say anything. "You told me so."

"I sure did. Anyway, I'll get out of your way, since I'm sure this will be a very important meeting for you. Probably extensive parole restrictions and security charms to discuss. I best be off."

Harry nodded. "Send Lavender my best."

"Will do," Dean said. He opened the door and then stopped. "Oh, by the way," he said turning to face Harry once more, "I heard about you and Ginny. Congratulations. Can't say I didn't see it coming."

Harry grinned. "Yeah, right?"

Dean just smiled back. "See you later, mate."

With Dean gone, Harry tried to collect his thoughts quickly before his meeting with Mr. Davids. Malfoy? Free? Harry ran his hand through his hair, confused. What the hell was he going to tell Ron? Ron was going to have a fit. And there was the problem with Hermione. A couple weeks ago she had started asking some disturbing questions. What if she…?

A soft knocking at the door jerked Harry out of his thoughts. "Come in," Harry said, composing himself.

The door swung open, and a smiling Mr. Davids walked through the door. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter," he said, extending his hand.

"Please, call me Harry," Harry said, shaking Mr. Davids' outstretched hand. The man had a firm grip. "Have a seat," Harry added, gesturing at the blue squishy chairs in front of his desk.

Mr. Davids wordlessly sat down and placed his briefcase on Harry's desk. As he opened it, he started speaking. "As I'm sure you just heard from Mr. Thomas, Draco Malfoy has been set free. I'm here to discuss his terms of parole with you."

Harry stared blankly at Mr. Davids. "How do you know De… Mr. Thomas?"

"As you will see from this paperwork," Mr. Davids continued, ignoring Harry's question, "Mr. Malfoy has been granted minimum security based on good behaviour while in Azkaban. Mid-level security charms are to be placed on Malfoy Manor. Mr. Malfoy is not to do any Dark Magic in the next three months. He is to check in with his parole Auror every week until his three-month parole is over."

Harry looked at the stack of papers in front of him. "Right…" Harry said. "Wait. Minimum security?"

Mr. Davids nodded. "Yes, sir."

"On good behaviour?" Harry repeated.

Mr. Davids smiled benignly. "Why, yes, Mr. Potter. I just said so. And it's all on the forms, if you'd like."

"How?!" Harry was completely, and utterly confused now.

"Good behaviour."

"But… but… He's bloody Draco Malfoy!" Harry exploded. "Do I need to remind you of what he did during the war? He was a Death Eater for the love of Merlin! He killed innocent people. He tortured Muggles! And he's on parole?! And minimum security parole? What the bloody hell were you thinking?"

Mr. Davids looked over his glasses at Harry. There was a very uncomfortable pause. Harry tried to hold Mr. Davids' gaze, but finally, Mr. Davids' stern look made Harry break eye contact.

"Harry," Mr. Davids said finally, "I think we both know that is not completely true."

Harry gave Mr. Davids' a questioning glance. When Mr. Davids said nothing else, Harry sighed and nodded. "All right then. I'll assign someone to Malfoy's case."

"I'd like it to be you," Mr. Davids said.

"Fine," Harry said.

"Are there any more questions?"

Harry shook his head. "No, sir. Thank you."

"No," Mr. Davids said, rising to leave. "Thank you."

"Wait," Harry said. "What…" Harry swallowed, unsure if he should ask this. This man was a complete stranger. How could he possibly know anything? And yet… "What should I tell Ron?" Harry asked finally.

Mr. Davids smiled softly at Harry. "You know what to tell him, Harry. You don't need me to tell you that."

x x x

"What did you call me in here for, Harry?"

"Shut the door. And, you probably should sit down."

Ron plopped into one of the squishy chairs. "I love these things." He fell back and closed his eyes briefly. A few seconds of silence passed, and Ron opened one eye to look at Harry. "Well, mate? Is something wrong?" When Harry didn't immediately respond, Ron opened both eyes and leaned forward. "Harry? You're worrying me, mate. What's the matter?"

Harry bit his lip. "They let him go."

"What?" Ron was confused. "Let who go?"

"Malfoy. They let him go, on minimum security."

Ron stared.

"The Ministry's kept it quiet, and I just found out about it an hour ago." Harry glanced up at Ron. "I know… I know this is bad news. It's bad for all of us. The question now is what we're going to do about it."

Ron clenched his jaw. "What do you think I'm going to do about it?" His voice was even, but Harry knew Ron was about to blow.

"Nothing rash." Ron opened his mouth to protest, but Harry cut him off. "I know you, Ron. This isn't good news, and you'll probably do something stupid. So please, for the love of Merlin, promise me you won't do anything stupid. Just… don't do anything. Leave Malfoy be."

"What if he comes…?"

"He won't. You know he won't. He's not that daft."

Harry watched Ron closely. Ron seemed to relax a bit. "Right."

"I really… I really don't think there's anything to worry about Ron," Harry said. Was there, really? "Malfoy would hardly be stupid enough to go looking for Hermione and Hermione… well…"

Ron nodded. "You're right."

"I just thought you should know," Harry added.

"Thanks, mate." Ron shifted uneasily in his chair. "But… I think it's best we don't take any chances. Let's not tell Hermione."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Not tell Hermione?"

"Promise me, Harry," Ron said a little more forcefully.

Harry sighed. "All right, Ron. I promise."

* * *

**AN:** Hello, all. It's been a while, hasn't it? Well, yes, with finals and papers, I didn't have much free time to even THINK about this story. But yes, here is another chapter. This story is fundamentally changing from what I had initially planned it to be, but I think it's much better this way. So! Hermione's having second thoughts about her life, we finally really get to see Draco, and Ron and Harry are hiding something from Hermione. What is it? Why are they doing it? Hmmm...Thanks to **tankbbg** and **figalicious** for the reviews on the last chapter. And it does seem everyone is in on it, doesn't it? Well, we'll see soon. Review!!! and you'll see sooner. xP  



	4. Elaborate Lives

**AN: **Yay, another chapter. :) I'm kind of on a roll right now. Thanks to everyone who reviewed in the last one! Some quick replies...

**Shattered Truth - **I _can't_ believe that anyone caught that reference to Company. I'm a huge Broadway fan too... and I think you'll notice that a lot of my titles are either titles of songs or snippets of the lyrics... like the title itself. Anyway, I _love_ Company... I just saw it a few weeks ago and it was amazing. Raul Esparza was stunning as Bobby! I hope he wins the Tony.

**BlueIrishEyes** - Thanks... I'm trying to keep my story as real as possible. I love fantastical settings, but I really hate when scenarios are completely ridiculous or characters are way too OOC.

**tankbbg** - Aiden is Ron's. Haha. I considered making that "mysterious" but truthfully, there's no question about it.

Thanks also to :) (ehhe). Here's the next chapter...! It's a tad longer than the previous ones, which I'm sure you wouldn't object to.

**ETA:** Lyrics to the song this chapter is named for. I chose that song for a reason, so I figured I should add in the lyrics.

* * *

**Stand and Watch It Burn**

**IV. Elaborate Lives**

Draco stood just outside the gates that shut off Malfoy Manor from the rest of the world. The gates were as old as the manor itself and charmed with the strongest security charms known to wizards. Only a Malfoy could open those gates or Apparate within the Malfoy estate... which is why Draco chose to Apparate just outside Malfoy Manor. He had wandered all day, avoiding his return to the place he once called home. But now that the sun had set, it was dark. Draco needed a place to stay, and although his years in Azkaban had hardened him, his unbroken pride would not allow him to sleep in the streets and Draco was certain no one would take him in. So, reluctantly, Draco returned to the manor. And now, he stood, lingering just outside the gates. Did he still have access, as a disowned, disgraced Malfoy? Yes, disowned…

o o o

_The light disappeared, and darkness engulfed Draco as he entered the depths of Azkaban. Draco knew it would be a long time before he felt the warmth of light again, but he continued on, not even bothering to turn back for one last glance. What did he need of light? All it did was allow him to see a world that hated him and wanted nothing to do with him._

_Draco trudged along mechanically, taking one robotic step after the other. The smell of Azkaban was undeniably pervasive. Rotting mold, fungus, old dirt, and dried blood. It smelled like death to Draco. _

_Leading the way were two guards – the new guards of Azkaban. Dementors had long been replaced. This changed when the guards abruptly stopped him. Draco had kept his head down, not bothering to look around him. Mildly annoyed, he finally glanced up and saw the guards pointing at the cell to the left. Draco turned to the left to see what the guards were pointing at. _

"_Draco." A voice, revoltingly familiar, said. Draco didn't have to look to know who the voice belonged to._

"_Father." Draco sneered. He tried to continue walking, but before he could go, he could hear Lucius speak, his tone strangely beseeching._

"_Please, guards," Lucius implored far too smoothly, "would you not let a father speak with his son? One last time?"_

_The two cloaked guards looked at each other and then nodded ever so slightly. They shoved Draco toward Lucius's cell and backed off ever so slightly, as if to give the two privacy. Draco looked around, back and forth between the guards and his father, wondering what was going on. He was confused. Why would his father want to speak with him? _

"_Father?"_

"_Don't call me that, you filthy scum," Lucius growled in undertones. He grabbed the steel bars separating him from Draco, leaning through as far as they would allow him. Draco stood, unmoving, staring Lucius straight in the eye. "I know all about you and the Mudblood and how you betrayed the Dark Lord. I'm not sure what disgusts me more. I heard they found you in bed with that revolting lowlife." Lucius's eyes were practically bulging out. He smiled maniacally. "But they got you in the end. Too bad they didn't kill you, you useless piece of rubbish. You have disgraced the Malfoy name." There was a long pause. Breathing heavily, Lucius finally spit out, "You are no longer a Malfoy. I have no son."_

_Draco remained silent, not speaking and not even blinking. Lucius burst out into crazy, uncontrollable laughter. At this, the guards came forward and grabbed Draco by the arms. _

"_Go," one gruffly ordered._

_Lucius's laughter continued to pierce the air, and it had a paralyzing effect on Draco. He couldn't move. _

"_I have no son!" Lucius started pacing around his cell. "I have no son!" he repeated more loudly. His cries were now echoing through the stony halls. _

_They were still ringing in Draco's ears as the guards dragged him away._

o o o

Draco stared hard at the cement at his feet. A lump grew in his throat. Quickly, Draco switched his mind to other thoughts. What did he care what Fath – _Lucius_, Draco menacingly corrected himself, thought anyway? _Lucius_ was stuck in Azkaban while Draco was free. _Without friends or family_, Draco mentally added bitterly.

Shaking his head, Draco tried to refocus on the matter at hand. Lucius had publicly disowned Draco. The Malfoy family code was old and rather archaic, but they were intact. Draco wasn't sure if he was still considered a Malfoy… which is why he Apparated just outside Malfoy Manor. He didn't fancy being splinched.

Draco ran a hand along the ornate metal bars. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Gently, he pushed on the gate.

It opened.

Draco breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps because Lucius was in Azkaban, his disowning had had no significance.

Slowly, Draco made his way to the front door. He stood outside and stared up the height of the door.

"Oh, what the bloody hell," he mumbled, and he shoved the doors open. Two house elves in the front hallway stared blankly at him.

"Young master!" they both gasped.

"Hetty," he said, nodding to one. "Milly."

There was a lengthy, awkward pause. The two house elves kept glancing at each other and then at Draco, who stood just inside the doorway. His eyes wandered from the swirling staircases to the crystal chandeliers. _Everything is still the same_.

Finally, one of the house elves managed to gather up her courage and ask Draco a question. "Did sir want Milly to go tells Mistress that sir is returned?"

"Mother," Draco murmured. _Of course_, he thought. _Where else would she be? This is still her home…_ "Yes, go tell Mother that I have arrived and that I will wait for her in the green drawing room."

Milly disappeared with a pop. Hetty looked nervously at Draco. "Is sir in needs of anything else?"

"No, Hetty, thank you." With a pop, Hetty too was gone.

Draco meandered through the halls of Malfoy Manor. It had been years since he was last here. The walls, the floors, and the furniture all looked so familiar and yet so foreign. Nothing had changed – at least nothing Draco could notice. Most everything looked the same. But Draco no longer had the feeling of belonging he once had. Even that, though, Draco noted, was gone a long time ago.

But as he neared the green drawing room, Draco started to feel slightly warmer inside. This part of the manor was the only part where he still felt a bit of affinity with. The green drawing room had been his mother's favourite. It was a smaller, old fashioned drawing room built perhaps a century ago. The walls were covered with silver-striped forest green wallpaper. The old chairs were made of black ash and covered with dark green brocade. Decorative molding adorned the walls. Like the rest of the floor was hardwood, but in the middle of the room was a huge, warmly green rug. He and his mother had spent in this room, drawing, reading old novels or just sitting by the fireplace, sharing tea.

So Draco was completely shocked to find it unkept and covered with a layer of dust. Evidently, his mother had not been in this room for a very long time.

"Draco?" a soft voice called out. Draco turned around and started at what he saw.

"Mother?" _No_. The woman standing in front of him could hardly be his mother. She was… too frail. Draco feared she would break if he dared to touch her. She had grown so thin. Her once luminous blonde hair was limp and wispy. Her fair face was ghostly pale… almost as if she, like Draco, had not seen the sun for the last three years.

"Draco…" Narcissa whispered softly, tears forming in her eyes. She placed her hands on his face, stroking his cheeks. "Draco… My _son_…" Tears fell silently down her face. Draco stood, watching awkwardly. Never had he seen his mother so openly emotional before. And truth be told, he was not entirely sure what the right thing to do in this situation was. The pain he felt in his own chest was unbearable. Finally, Draco jerked his hands up to meet his mother's, holding them protectively. Narcissa wept openly at this gesture. "My son, my son, my darling child!"

For a while, the two just stood there, neither moving, neither speaking. Draco broke the silence with three hushed words: "Mother, I'm home."

x x x

_We all lead such elaborate lives  
Wild ambitions in our sights  
How an affair of the heart survives  
Days apart and hurried nights   
Seems quite unbelievable to me  
I don't want to live like that   
Seems quite unbelievable to me  
I don't want to love like that   
I just want our time to be  
Slower and gentler, wiser, free_

x x x

"Ron!"

"Yeah?" Ron answered, not looking up.

Hermione batted at Ron's arm until he finally tore his eyes away from his paperwork to see what Hermione was excitedly trying to shove in his face. "What?!"

"I _finished_." Hermione beamed, holding up the tiny green sweater. It was a simple knit, but the little sweater was simply adorable. Hermione had dedicated many hours that day to the sweater, determined to finish it before Aiden was too big for it. Her hands were sore and her fingers felt cramped, but when she looked at the tiny green sweater, she felt nothing but pride.

"Wow, Hermione!" Ron fingered the wooly green garment. "You're going to give my mum a run for her money." He leaned over and gave Hermione a quick kiss.

Hermione grinned. "Oh, it will be ages before I catch up with your mum." Ron returned her smile and turned back to his work. Hermione got up and set about cleaning the scraps of yarn and her knitting notions. "So how was your day?"

Ron seemed to tense slightly. "Same old," he said after a short pause.

"Yes, it must get so tiring, defending the wizarding world from evil," Hermione said in a teasing tone. She put her hands on Ron's shoulder and started to massage them. "Merlin, you're tense. Harry's working you ridiculously too hard. What on earth are you doing at work?"

"We have a lot of things going on," Ron said vaguely.

"You _could_ tell me," Hermione pointed out.

"I could," Ron said thoughtfully, "but you know, it's kinda fun knowing things you don't." Hermione slapped the back of Ron's head. "Ow!" he cried out. "What the bloody hell was that for?"

"You know what," Hermione retorted. She glanced over at the clock and noted the time. "It's getting late," she said. "I'm going to go check on Aiden and write in my diary for a bit. I'll see you in bed, okay?" Ron nodded and she kissed him on the forehead quickly before she set off.

x x x

_We all live in extravagant times  
Playing games we can't all win   
Unintended emotional crimes  
Take some out, take others in_

x x x

Ron changed into his grey flannel pyjamas and crawled into bed next to Hermione, who was already lying down under the blankets. "Hey," he said softly. "Finish writing in your diary already?"

"Yeah." Hermione turned her head slightly, yawning. "You should try it, you know? I've kept one ever since I could write, and…"

"Yeah, yeah," Ron muttered. "We go through this at least twice a week. You've had a diary since you were three months old. It helped change you from smart to bloody brilliant. You read your old diaries and smile at the memories. And it always ends with you saying, 'Start a journal, Ronald,'" he said, pitching his voice an octave higher, mocking Hermione's voice. "'It will help you keep track of your life and keep you at peace with you and your mind. Blahy blah blah…'"

"Oh shut up, Ron," Hermione said.

"Do you ever write about me?" Ron gently placed an arm around Hermione.

"Now, do you _really_ expect me to tell you that after you mocked me for keeping a diary?"

Ron pouted. "Pleeeease Hermione?"

"My diary is for my eyes only."

"I'm sorry! Really, I am!"

Hermione laughed. "Of course I wrote about you, you ninny." She turned so she could look in his eyes. "You're the love of my life. How could I not write about you?" Wrapping her arms around Ron's neck, she pulled him in for a deep kiss. Smiling, she pulled back and kissed him again, this time, gently on the forehead. Hermione turned back around and set her head down to sleep.

Hermione had almost drifted off when Ron meekly whispered, "Hermione?"

"What is it, Ron?"

"Erm… Can I read it?"

"What?!"

"You know," Ron said, "seeing as how I'm the love of your life and everything… can I read what you wrote?" Ron sounded very eager.

"No!" Hermione replied vehemently. "No one can read my diary!"

"But _Her-mi-o-ne_" – Ron was on the verge of whining now – "you _just_ said…"

"I know what I said, Ronald," Hermione snapped. "The answer is still and always will be no. Now go to sleep."

Ron grumbled, turning away from Hermione. "I don't even know where you keep the bloody thing. I never even see you writing in it. You just _talk_ about it. I bet it doesn't even exist."

Hermione smiled. "Oh, it exists all right," she said victoriously. "Good night Ron!" she chirped.

"'Night," was Ron's disgruntled reply.

Hermione closed her eyes. Maybe she was being childish by not letting Ron read her diary, but… she needed something to be hers and hers completely. Sometimes it felt like her diary was all she had left.

x x x

_We all lead such elaborate lives  
We don't know whose words are true   
Strangers, lovers, husbands, wives  
Hard to know who's loving who_

x x x

The next morning was bright and cheery. It was a Saturday, meaning Ron did not have to leave for work early. As it was every Saturday, they all slept a little later than usual. At 7:32 precisely, Aiden would cry and Hermione would rise up to change and feed him. Then, until Ron finally got up around 9:30, Hermione would do chorest. They usually had plans for some sort of a family outing on Saturdays, like taking Aiden for a walk in the park, or visiting the Burrow or the Grangers. This particular Saturday, they were going to the park.

At 7:32, precisely, Hermione woke to the sounds of Aiden crying. She pushed the sheets away, and Ron made an unhappy noise at the sudden removal of the blankets. Still asleep, he yanked the blankets back toward him. Hermione smiled as she walked to Aiden's room.

After taking care of Aiden, Hermione busied herself with the laundry, sorting the clothes on her bed. For some reason, this week was particularly bad. _This is what I get for slacking off _last_ week, _Hermione thought. The laundry was one of Hermione's least favorite chores, even now with magic. Magic, of course, made laundry so much easier. Hermione couldn't imagine what life would be like if she had to do it the Muggle way.

At 8:49, Hermione had finished with the laundry. There were, at the time, no other pressing chores to speak of. "Well now," Hermione said, clapping her hands together, "a little time for me, perhaps? What shall I do…?" She stopped to think for a while. "Oh, silly me," she laughed, and started to head for her bookshelf.

When she neared the bookshelf by the window, she heard a soft tapping. Hermione peered outside to see a small brown owl, banging its little beak against the glass. _The Daily Prophet_ owl. It delivered at 9 o'clock on Saturdays. Perhaps the owls slept in too.

"Stuph tha inthernal thappin," Ron muttered into his pillow.

Hermione opened the window, removed the newspaper, and placed a few Knuts into the little bag on the owl's leg. "Thank you," she said. The owl hooted and flew off.

_I guess I'll read this instead, _Hermione thought, feeling slightly whimsical. She headed down to the kitchen. Tea and the paper sounded delightful.

Soon, Hermione was sitting at the kitchen table with the newspaper and a steaming cup of Earl Grey. Aiden sat in a high chair next to her.

"What to tackle first?" Hermione asked, looking at her little son. "International? Business? Entertainment?"

"Mm-bah!" Aiden said, banging the table on his high chair with his hands.

"Excellent choice," Hermione said. "Local news it is."

Hermione sifted through the pages, skimming the headlines. "Not much in the news today," Hermione reported to her son. She was just about to turn to the Sports section when a small article in the corner caught her eye.

_**Malfoy Free – Others to Follow?**_

_This past week, Draco Malfoy, 21, had his life-sentence cut short and his conviction overturned when the Wizengamot ruled Malfoy innocent. _

"_This is a terrible day for the wizarding community," fumes one Trisha Brewer. "Clearly some sort of bribery or dirty work was in play here… how else could a sane person explain setting Malfoy free to create more havoc on innocent people?"_

_As our faithful readers will remember, Malfoy was first caught three years ago by three prominent members of the Order of the Phoenix, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Conquered, Nymphadora Tonks, and Ronald Weasley. Malfoy was allegedly leading other Death Eaters in an attack against other members of the Order of the Phoenix._

_There are rumors that perhaps Malfoy's conviction was unwarranted and that Malfoy had defected from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Attorney Alan Davids maintains this stance. "Draco was no longer a Death Eater," he states with certainty._

_Whatever the real story is, the truth remains that one formerly convicted Death Eater has been set free. Justice, or a horrible omen of things to come? What will the release of Draco Malfoy mean for the rest of us? Only time will tell._

How on earth could they possibly think that Malfoy was innocent? Malfoy had never been innocent a day in his life. Now, Hermione was fuming. This Ministry simply couldn't do anything right. They thought that now with Voldemort gone, they could do whatever they bloody well pleased and get away with it.

Hermione reread the article again, and something started to bother her. Ron, Harry, and Tonks had been the ones to capture Malfoy? She remembered a few days ago when she asked about Malfoy… Ron had given her an unclear, offhand answer. Why didn't he mention he had helped arrest Malfoy? And why wasn't she there? And why couldn't she remember them discussing it? If they had caught Malfoy, surely she would have heard about it.

Suddenly, random images flashed in Hermione's mind. Harry and Malfoy, shaking hands. Malfoy and Ginny, bent over a cauldron. Malfoy sitting at the kitchen table in the Burrow, smiling and talking to Arthur Weasley. Images that reminded her eerily of the dream she had a few weeks before.

"'Mione?" Ron's voice was distant. "Are you ready to go to the park?"

Hermione picked up Aiden and hazily walked over to the closet where Ron was taking out Aiden's stroller. "Good morning, love," he said, giving her a quick peck on the lips. "Are you ready?"

"What?" Hermione snapped out of her trance.

Ron looked quizzically at Hermione. "I said, are you ready?"

"Oh," Hermione laughed. "Yeah, sure."

Ron stopped what he was doing. "Hermione, is something wrong?" he asked, concerned.

Hermione bit her lip, unsure of what to say. Maybe it was nothing, and her mind was going crazy… but it didn't seem so. The dream, the images… they seemed _so_ real. And this article was rather disconcerting. Something was missing in her mind and she desperately needed to know what it was.

"I was thinking about the war," Hermione started, trying to sound unconcerned.

Ron visibly relaxed a bit - but only a little bit. "Oh?" he asked. "What about it?"

"Some of our amazing battles and arrests," Hermione said, smiling. "Like that fight against the Carrows."

"Yeah, slimy buggers they are," Ron said with disgust. "One tried to attack you from behind. Dirty, foul bastard."

"The way you dodged that blasting charm was amazing," Hermione mused. "I never knew you could be so quick on your feet."

"Well, if you're about to be blown to bits, you'd be quick on your feet too."

"And we arrested them and sent them off to Azkaban," Hermione finished.

Ron nodded. "As they deserved."

"And how you and Harry caught Malfoy and his cronies was brill as well."

"What are you talking about?" Ron asked slowly.

"Didn't you tell me…?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Hermione," Ron laughed. He coughed and cleared his throat. "Oh yes," he said quickly, "I remember now. Harry and Lupin found him in Knockturn Alley and arrested him there. Made short work of too, from what I remember." Ron straightened up a bit, his ears red and his face flushed. "Let's not talk about such depressing things on such a lovely day," he said a little too brightly. "Come," he said, taking Aiden from Hermione and placing him into the stroller, "let's take a stroll around the park and come back for a good breakfast." Ron started heading out the door. Hermione hadn't moved an inch. "Hermione? Love? Are you coming?"

Hermione swallowed. "Yeah… yeah," Hermione mumbled. "You're right, Ron." She smiled cheerfully at him and he, seemed relieved and returned the smile.

"Let's go," Ron said, gesturing for her to follow him.

"Yeah, I'm coming," Hermione said. "Just let me grab my jacket. I left it in the kitchen."

"All right," Ron said. "I'll wait for you here."

Hermione ran to the kitchen and, when she was sure Ron couldn't see, collapsed into a chair. Ron had always been a terrible liar. He never could do it, even if his life was on the line. Hermione took a glance at _The Daily Prophet_ once more. Decisively, she shoved it under a pile of bills and mail that she was sure Ron wouldn't touch. Hermione still had no idea what happened, but she was certain of one thing: Ron was lying to her.

* * *

**AN: **Oh dear. Okay... Draco's home and has a tearful reunion with his mum. Hermione's finally realised that Ron is lying to her. There are so many questions up in the air right now. What's Draco going to do? What's _Hermione_ going to do? 

Review and find out faster:) Thanks!


	5. Warnings, Libraries, and Rumours

**AN: **Sorry for the long lapse between this update and the previous one. I swear, I've been working plenty on this story, and I've written a lot, but none of it can come up yet! But the next update should be really soon as it's already written and just needs some editing. This is definitely a turning point in this story, and it'll take (what I think is) an interesting twist after this.

Thanks to **The-Lady-Layla, ShatteredTruth, BlueIrishEyes, **and **Ana Roo** for your reviews. Feedback really means a lot to me! Thanks so much guys. I hope you really like this next chapter.

* * *

**Stand and Watch It Burn**

V. Warnings, Libraries, and Rumours

Draco stared at the clock hanging on the wall, tapping his foot impatiently. _Tick. Tick.__Tap. Tick.__Tap tap._ Five minutes late. Draco was started to get frustrated and annoyed. He shifted around in the squishy blue chair. _Terrible for back support_, Draco thought critically. _No wonder Potter has such terrible posture_.

The whole office was an interior designer's nightmare. Not that Draco was an expert by any means, but even he could tell this place was a disaster. The room was filled with a mish mash of pieces of furniture and ornaments, none of which matched any of the others. The blue chairs clashed terribly with the scarlet and gold striped rug underneath. Typical. Several teak bookshelves filled with books and files lined the walls. The rich mahogany desk sat in the centre of the room. On the desk sat several frames of various metals and woods.

Draco stared at the backs of the frames. Should he? How long could he delay the inevitable? He had spent the whole week since his release willingly confined within the gates of his manor. The terms of his pardon allowed him to leave, but Draco was reluctant to, for many reasons.

Slowly, and with extreme deliberation, Draco leaned forward until he could see the pictures the frames held. One was a picture of Harry and Ginny, kissing. Scowling lightly, he turned to examine the others. One of Potter's parents. He remembered that photo. One of Lupin. One of Sirius. No, no, no… not what he was looking for. One of Hagrid with that stupid hippogriff…

"It's on your left."

Draco nearly fell onto the desk. He had been so absorbed by his search, he hadn't heard the door open or Harry coming in.

"What's on the left?" he asked with an air of indifference.

"You know," Harry replied, walking over to the large, black leather chair behind his desk. It was a nice chair, Draco noted. It looked quite comfy. Harry sat down.

"I'm quite sure I have no idea what you're talking about." Draco stared out the window behind Harry's desk, purposefully avoiding having to look Harry in the eyes.

Harry sighed. He reached to his right and showed Draco what he _had_ been looking for. A smiling couple waved at him rather obnoxiously.

Draco looked at Harry coolly. "So?" he asked.

"So," Harry said, replacing the frame. He returned Draco's look.

Torn, Draco sat, contemplating. Finally, his curiosity and desire to know won. His eyes dropped to the outrageous scarlet and gold carpet at his feet, finding it an easier sight than Harry's gaze. Quietly, he asked, "How long?"

"Two years," Harry replied. "They have a son."

"Name?"

"What do you care?"

Draco tilted his head up and gave Harry a defiant look. "Aiden," Harry finally said. "Aiden Aneirin Granger Weasley. Long name for a little guy."

Upon hearing this, Draco felt his heart twinge. "Who decided that name?"

"They agreed on the first name, but Hermione was dead set on Aneirin as his middle name. We tried to convince her that 'Aiden' and 'Aneirin' weren't exactly the best combination of names, but she had her heart set on that name for some reason. I think Ron was just glad she gave up on Plato." Draco gave Harry a twisted smile. Harry looked at Draco questioningly. "Really, _what do you care?_"

"I'm not heartless, Potter, as you might like to think."

"You haven't exactly proven that, Malfoy."

Silence.

"How's Ginny? I assume you two are still together, if not married. Are you married?"

"Malfoy…"

"Am I invited to the wedding?"

"No!"

"You're not together?"

"Yes, we are…"

"Then you're not married?"

"No, not yet…"

"Oh, so you're engaged!"

"Yes…"

"Then what on earth were you saying no to?"

"Malfoy," Harry said, giving Draco a warning glare, "we have business to attend to."

Draco said nothing.

"You know the terms of your release?"

"Yes," Draco said impatiently. "I've only heard them about seventy-three times since the wretched day I left Azkaban."

"Give me your wand," Harry instructed. Draco handed it over. Draco had loved his wand the moment he had received it at Ollivander's. Hawthorn and phoenix feather, twelve inches long. Draco feared they had broken it when he went to Azkaban, so he had been pleasantly surprised when his lawyer returned it to him upon his release. The wand had long served him well.

Draco watched has Harry examined it. "Seems to be all right," Harry finally said, returning the wand to Draco. "As you remember…"

"No Dark Magic." Draco gave Harry a hard look. "You know I gave that up, Harry."

"I don't know about that, _Malfoy_," Harry responded with emphasis, a faint scowl pulling down the corners of his lips.

Draco sighed. Hesitantly, he started, "Look, _Potter_, I didn't… That night, I…"

Harry waved him off. "You don't need to explain anything to me, Malfoy."

"You wouldn't believe me anyway."

"Ron and Hermione are my best friends." Harry leaned forward. "They've been there for me through everything. They've supported me wholeheartedly and completely. They're the nearest thing I have to family, Malfoy. Perhaps that means nothing to you, but for me, it's everything. _Everything_. Ron and Hermione have sacrificed so much for me, I will do everything in my power to protect them. I will _not_ let you hurt them."

Draco's face hardened. "What makes you think I'd even bother talking to Weasley and Granger?"

"Because you love torturing us and making our lives hell," Harry growled.

Draco laughed. "True. I almost forgot how delightful it is to bait Weasley. It would be almost too easy. I could use a few laughs."

Harry stared at Draco for a long while, and slowly, the smile on Draco's face faded. "Look," Harry said in a slightly softer voice, "I know you've been through a lot. But so has Ron. So has Hermione. They're happy now. They have a son. And they have a wonderful life together. I won't let you ruin that."

"I have no illusions, Potter," Draco said coldly. "I know what happened. I know what reality is. You do not need to worry about me. And if we're quite done here, I'd like to return to the manor."

After a few seconds, Harry finally nodded. "I'll see you next week. Same place, same time."

"Don't be late next time, Potter," Draco said.

As Draco rose to leave, Harry said, "I mean it, Malfoy. Stay away from Hermione."

Draco briefly closed his eyes before responding. "Of course, Potter."

x x x

Hermione wasn't sure where to start. Ron was lying to her about Malfoy, but why? What didn't he want her to know?

She had tried to shrug it off. Maybe Ron hadn't remembered correctly. Maybe Malfoy was so unimportant that Ron had forgotten the details. Maybe this was all in her mind. _I have had an awful lot of time to think lately,_ Hermione admitted to herself. Doing household chores could only do so much for stimulating the brain. Perhaps she was creating mysterious puzzles for herself to solve… puzzles that didn't exist.

But still, something deep inside her just knew something was wrong. And she was determined to figure out what it was… if only she knew where to start.

Hermione thought about it all night. After a restless night of sleep, she decided the answer started with what happened with Malfoy three years ago. And in order to figure out what happened with Malfoy three years ago, she needed to do research. And for that, she needed to go to the library. The Wizarding Public Library in Diagon Alley to be exact.

The library. Hermione hadn't entered it since the war when she went to research some ancient runes for Harry. The Hogwarts library had been extensive and wonderful, but it was absolutely nothing compared to the extravagance and excess of the Wizarding Public Library. There were bookshelves upon bookshelves of tomes on anything and everything a wizard or witch could possibly imagine, even the original scrolls used by the Egyptian wizards… though those were in a Rare Books department and obviously limited to use in the library under supervision.

This morning had been a blur. Hermione had nodded her way through breakfast until Ron left for work at 7:59. Then, Hermione left Aiden with Mrs. Weasley, explaining that she needed to run some errands. Mrs. Weasley, not asking any questions, had willingly obliged, more than happy to take her little grandson for a few hours.

So now, Hermione was in Diagon Alley, standing right at the foot of the long stairway in front of the library. The stairs, like the library, were of a white-grey marble. It was a lovely day in late May, and the rose bushes lining the stairs were in full bloom. The library was very grand, much more so than Hermione remembered. There was a large arching doorway with heavy wooden doors. The front of the building was adorned with six wide Corinthian columns, three standing on each side of the door.

Slowly, Hermione climbed the stairs. Taking a deep breath, Hermione pushed the heavy wooden doors which creakily opened. For a building so large, it was relatively empty. Hermione could see a few people wandering around, perusing books, and others sitting at long oak tables, looking through huge books. In the far right corner, there was a small group of children, sitting around a witch who was reading them a story. Story time. Hermione smiled nostalgically, remembering her own experiences with story time in the Muggle libraries in her childhood. She'd have to bring Aiden here… Well, maybe when he was a little older.

"Can I help you, Miss?"

Hermione jumped slightly. The young witch now standing at her elbow smiled. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

Hermione returned the smile. "No, it's quite all right," she replied.

"Is there anything in particular you were looking for?"

"Yes, actually," Hermione said, her eyes scanning the room. "Where do you keep old issues of _The Daily Prophet_?"

"Downstairs," the girl answered. "Here, follow me. I'll show you."

The girl led Hermione to a stairwell that led down into a stonewalled hallway lit by candles.

"Not many people look at the archives," the girl commented. "They were thinking about getting rid of them." At the end of the hallway was a wide heavy wooden door. The girl took out her wand. "_Alohomora._" The door swung open. "Here you go, miss."

The room had file cabinet after file cabinet, each labeled with a year. There were literally hundreds of cabinets.

"We have every issue ever printed of _The Daily Prophet_. Is there a particular one you're looking for?"

"I'm looking for ones from three years ago."

"Hmmm…" The girl wandered down the aisles. "Three years ago… Ah! Here it is. Which month?"

Hermione hesitated. "I'm actually not sure."

The girl raised an eyebrow. "Well, is there an event or subject in particular you're looking for?"

"Yes," Hermione said slowly. "I'm trying to find articles about the arrest of Draco Malfoy."

"Draco Malfoy?" The girl looked at Hermione, intrigued. "Wasn't he just recently released?" Hermione nodded. "I remember when he was arrested. A lot of funny things going on behind that. Lots of rumours." Hermione stared at the girl, but she was too busy examining the file cabinets to notice. She opened one and shuffled through its contents. "What month was it," she mumbled under her breath. "Oh, yes, here it is. April 30. Just right near the end of the war." She pulled out an issue with the huge headline _**DEATH EATER APPREHENDED, MALFOY CAUGHT IN THE ACT**_ The girl handed it to Hermione. "Here you go. If you need anything else, I'll be upstairs. My name is Olivia."

"Thank you, Olivia," Hermione said.

"There's a few chairs over in that corner you can sit on if you need. You can't check out the issues, but you can read them as long as you'd like," the girl added. "Have a nice day, miss." With that, she left.

Hermione made her way over to the aforementioned corner and fell into a chair. She couldn't believe what she read.

_Last night, the Light Side won a crucial battle in the war against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Just past midnight, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, Ron Weasley, son of the Head of Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects, Arthur Weasley, and Nymphadora Tonks, an Auror, came into the Ministry with Draco Malfoy, son of renowned Death Eater, Lucius Malfoy. _

_The younger Malfoy, believed to be in You-Know-Who's inner circle and the devious mastermind responsible for the murder of Albus Dumbledore, was apprehended in a cabin in the middle of the woods, believed to be the residence of Remus Lupin, a known werewolf. Our sources indicate that Malfoy and his fellow Death Eaters were attempting to recruit this creature to join their side. Lupin, to their disappointment, was not there._

_Potter, Weasley, and Tonks have declined to answer any of our questions. Although we are unsure of the actual chain of events, from what we have surmised, we believe this to be what happened. Malfoy and others appeared at the cabin and searched for Lupin, but he was nowhere to be found. An organization fighting the Dark Side – the so-called "Order of the Phoenix" – had long been on Malfoy's tail, and it is believed that they managed to trace Malfoy to the cabin. They, however, arrived at different times. From what we can deduce, the first to arrive at the scene was Hermione Granger._

Hermione stared at the newspaper in disbelief. _I was there? That's impossible! How on earth…_ Hermione shook her head. Impossible. Completely impossible.

_Granger then confronted the Death Eaters, but being vastly outnumbered, she could hardly fight them all off. By the time Potter, Weasley, and Tonks arrived at the scene, Granger had been knocked unconscious. The three managed to subdue the Death Eaters, but the majority escaped. They only managed to take Malfoy into custody._

_Currently, Granger is in St. Mungo's, still unconscious. The doctors have not answered our inquiries about her condition, merely stating that she is stable and they are unsure of what curse was used upon her. _

Unconscious. St. Mungo's. Hermione's head spun. She didn't remember any of this. What the hell was going on?

Hermione put the newspaper back in the file cabinet and hurried back upstairs. Back in the main room, she looked around until she found what she was looking for.

"Olivia!" Hermione called out. Her voice wasn't loud but definitely above a library voice. Many patrons in the library looked at her and shot her a dirty glare. _God, now I'm forgetting my library etiquette. What's happening to me?!_

Olivia came to Hermione, smiling cheerfully. "Did you find everything you were looking for, Miss?"

"Not exactly."

"Well, what else do you need?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Olivia, when you said there were a lot of funny things going on behind Malfoy's arrest, what did you mean? What rumours are you talking about?"

Olivia's face immediately darkened. She looked around quickly. "Oh," she said, her voice barely audible. "I'm not sure if this is a good place to talk about it. Come with me." She led Hermione out of the main room and into one of the smaller rooms. "This is the Muggle Technologies and Science section. We shouldn't be bothered here."

"Why all the secrecy?" Hermione asked.

"Well," Olivia said slowly, "it's just that… all these years after the war, it's become the general consensus that Draco Malfoy's arrest was integral to the downfall of You-Know-Who. Especially since it happened just a month or so before the end of the war. But at the time of his arrest, there were a lot of rumours swirling about. Almost everyone was whispering about it. I'm really surprised you haven't heard about it."

"What rumours, Olivia?" Hermione pulled at her hair in frustration. "Why wasn't it mentioned in the article?"

"Because they wanted to keep it down."

"Who?"

"The Ministry. The Order."

"The _Order?!_"

"Shhh!" Olivia peeked through the door, checking to see if anyone overheard them. "Keep your voice down. Yes, the Order of the Phoenix."

"Why would we – they want to keep it down?"

"I have no idea," Olivia said. "I've always wondered, but I was never told any reason. All I know is Harry Potter and Ron Weasley made sure that _The Daily Prophet_ didn't even mention it."

Hermione stared at Olivia. "Harry Potter and Ron Weasley?" she repeated weakly.

Olivia nodded.

"But _what…"_

"SHHH!"

"Sorry," Hermione hurriedly apologised. "What rumours did they not want mentioned?"

"That Draco Malfoy was no longer a Death Eater." Olivia looked at Hermione with wide eyes. "That the truth was Draco Malfoy had long defected. That, really, _Draco Malfoy was a member of the Order of the Phoenix_."

* * *

**AN: **Ah yes. It's really not a surprise that Draco was on the light side was it? If not you haven't been paying attention:P But Harry and Ron's role in it? Hmmm... And why doesn't Hermione remember?

I don't think I reveal any secrets when I say writers love reviews. Please:)


	6. When He Appeared

**AN:** Hello, hello, hello! I told you the next update would be soon. :) I'm really getting into a groove with this story, though a lot of things are still up in the air. It's really interesting to see where this story naturally takes me and how the characters develop.

To my dear, faithful reviewers - **ShatteredTruth **and **BlueIrishEyes**, thank you. It means so much to me. BIE, Aneirin is pronounced A-NYE-RIN. Thank you also to **chaste-aeon** for your lovely reviews. Your running commentary on the story was not only very interesting and amusing but really helpful. So thank you! It scares me that I'm making Ron so unlikeable! Later, though, we'll see more from Ron and Harry and that lot.

Thanks to everyone who's made it this far. Yes, I know, the beginning is a bit dull and slow if I do say so myself... but that's my style and I'm sticking with it. I hope you see now that the beginning was rather necessary. The plot's _really_ starting to pick up now so I almost hate to do this, but I find it rather necessary. It's time to step back. Literally. Three years back to be exact. Although Hermione doesn't remember, this is actually what happened... and you need to know this because in order to understand the present, one must understand the past.

* * *

**Stand and Watch It Burn**

**VI. ...When He Appeared**

_**Three Years Ago…**_

Two days ago, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had returned to the Burrow after a weeklong search for a Horcrux. They had gotten some promising leads, but most of them brought them nowhere. So after over two weeks away from their loved ones, the three agreed to return briefly to rest and recharge. And there was nothing in the world like Mrs. Weasley's cooking to help a person back on his feet.

Hermione sat next to Ginny on Ginny's bed, sharing her adventures on the road. Ginny listened, wide-eyed and envious, enraptured and constantly asking questions. Hermione was very glad to oblige. Her heart ached for Ginny – left behind by Harry in a ploy to protect her. Sometimes Hermione thought Harry was a little too noble for his own good.

"So the girl – Emily? – _really_ did that?"

Hermione nodded vigorously. She was sharing the story of their stop in Edinburgh. They had been there on a lead about a secret society of wizards there, almost as old as Hogwarts, tucked away in a corner, hidden from most of the wizarding world. It was whispered that they knew more about Dark Magic (though they never practiced it), more than Lord Voldemort himself. Their secrets were passed down from generation to generation, never leaving the small circle. They were the protectors of these secrets – secrets that were saved only to be used in times of danger.

"But it didn't matter much. Besides, I think Emily a bit of a thing for Harry." Hermione giggled. "Oh, Harry was so _embarrassed_ every time she flirted with him." Hermione regretted those words the moment they left her mouth. She mentally slapped herself for being so insensitive.

Ginny got quiet very suddenly. She asked in a small voice, "Was she very pretty?"

Hermione sighed. "Oh, Gin. I'm not going to lie. Yes, she was."

"And smart. And talented. Oh, God, Hermione." Ginny grabbed a pillow and stuffed her face into it.

"Ginny, Harry wasn't interested in her," Hermione said, her voice slightly pleading. Ginny didn't move. Hermione briefly wondered how she could breathe. "Gin… you know Harry still cares about you."

Ginny finally looked up, her eyes bright and shining from tears threatening to spill out. "Did he ever talk about me?"

"Constantly," Hermione said honestly. "Truthfully, it got rather annoying. And I think Ron was getting a little grossed out by it."

A huge grin broke out on Ginny's face. "Really?" she asked hopefully.

"Have I ever lied to you?"

"No," Ginny said smiling. "Oh, Hermione, you're the best friend I've ever had. You know I never would lie to you either, right?"

Hermione nodded happily.

"So…" Ginny said, a mischievous glint in her eye, "speaking of _Ron_…"

"Gin-_ny_," Hermione said warningly.

"What? I'm just asking. I know what happened at the end of last year. I'm not stupid you know. And by the way, I'd like to remind you that I – yes, me, Ginevra Molly Weasley – told you that he liked you too. You wouldn't believe me. Hah! And you're supposed to be smart, too."

Hermione laughed. "Oh, you've always been smarter than me when it comes to this stuff."

"So, really," Ginny said. "Ron."

Hermione shrugged. "Things are same as usual."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound good."

Sighing, Hermione pulled her knees into her chest and wrapped her arms around them. "I care so much about him, Ginny, and he's a wonderful person. He makes me laugh… well, when we're not arguing. And he cares about me too. So much. But… I don't know…"

"Something's missing?" Ginny suggested.

Hermione shook her head. "No, no. Well… I don't know. Maybe it's just all these _responsibilities_. They're really weighing down on all of us, you know? We haven't had much time for us, honestly. All our energy has gone towards trying to find more leads and looking for those Horcruxes."

"Yeah," Ginny said softly. "Harry looks so worn out."

Hermione was about to respond when someone urgently rapped on the door. "Hermione?" asked a male voice. "You in there?"

"Yeah, come in," she replied.

A very perturbed Arthur Weasley walked in. He rubbed his head distractedly as he entered, a worried expression on his face. Hermione felt her insides twist. In times like these, looks like that usually meant bad news.

"Daddy?" Ginny asked, concern obvious in her voice. "Is something wrong?"

Arthur laughed nervously. "Oh, no one's died," he said, a little bluntly. Hermione and Ginny both heaved a sigh of relief. "But, Hermione, there's something really important... Harry asked me to call you downstairs, in the kitchen."

"All right, Mr. Weasley."

Following Mr. Weasley, Hermione walked down several flights of stairs to the kitchen and nearly ran into the small crowd of people there. Ron and Lupin stood facing the door, wands drawn and ready. At the door was Harry, who stood there with his hands in his pockets. Hermione wondered why Ron and Lupin would be wanting to attack Harry. But when she looked at the door again, she saw something else. She realized they weren't aiming at Harry… Their wands were both pointed at none other than Draco Malfoy.

But this wasn't the Draco Malfoy they had grown accustomed to seeing at Hogwarts. His robes were shabby. His hair was disheveled and he was absolutely covered in dirt. Hermione also suspected he had not eaten in days. There was a distinctly gaunt and empty look in his eyes.

"Hermione?" Harry asked.

"I'm here," she said, coming to the front and standing by Ron. Hermione narrowed her eyes. "What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

Malfoy, as different as his appearance was, was still the same: cocky as hell. He rolled his eyes impatiently. "Am I going to have to answer that _every time_ someone else steps into this room?" He looked around at the growing crowd of people. "I've answered that four times now. Once when I saw Potter. Then Weasley. Then another Weasley. Then Lupin. I'm rather tired of answering that question."

Harry looked at everyone assembled before him, watching him expectantly. After taking a death breath, Harry blurted out, "He says he's turning himself in. Wants to help us."

"That's right, Potter," Malfoy said, smirking slightly. "Is this how you greet all your members? No wonder no one wants to join."

"Shut it, Ferretface," Ron snarled.

"Watch it, Weasel," Malfoy snapped back.

"Why should we trust you?" Ron asked. "After all you did, you think we'd just let you in like that? What do you take us for, stupid?"

Malfoy smirked again. "Too easy. Won't bite."

Ron glared at him. "Shut the hell up, Malfoy. You're a filthy Death Eater like your father and you'll never be anything better than that."

"I've already spoken to Potter," Malfoy said. "He trusts me."

All eyes turned to Harry. "You _what_?!" Ron spit out.

Harry was shuffling around the room. "Malfoy and I…" he stopped and cleared his throat again. "Yes," he said with conviction. "I trust him. He wants to help. Dumbledore would have let him," Harry added. He stopped as if he were remembering something. "So, that's my decision. We let him in." Ron made a very angry noise. "Ron, I don't like him either… but he has valuable information…"

"Harry, are you _sure?_ This is Draco Malfoy we're talking about," Hermione said.

Harry looked a little upset now. "Yes, I'm sure. I trust him."

Ron was fuming. "Why the _fuck_ would you believe any word out of his filthy pathetic mouth when all he's done is to insult us? Are you out of your mind, Harry? I thought that…"

Lupin cut in. "Harry, if that's your decision, I trust you." He turned to look at Malfoy. "Draco," he said kindly, "I hope you do not prove us wrong."

Malfoy returned Lupin's gaze but didn't respond.

Mr. Weasley sighed. "With Remus as head of the Order now, that's as good as done."

"Right then," Harry said. He walked over to Malfoy and reached out his hand. Without missing a beat and surprising everyone else, Malfoy extended his hand and shook Harry's hand. Hermione watched, amused. It wasn't a quick touch and release, but a real, bonafide handshake. Who would have thought?

* * *

**AN: **Kinda short, but I'm telling you it's important! And there will be more of these little episodes. Stay tuned. 


	7. The Past is Another Land

**AN: **Another quick turn around. This chapter practically wrote itself!

Thanks again to my reviewers, **ShatteredTruth**, **cmtaylor531**, **lostxatx7thxsea**, **chaste-aeon**, and **BlueIrishEyes.** BIE, I think you can tell from this chapter that I have no intention of continuing from last chapter. The flashbacks will be woven into the story at what I feel are appropriate times. And as for the last chapter being short... well, hopefully this one makes up for it!

* * *

**Stand and Watch It Burn**

**VII. The Past is Another Land**

Hermione stood, frozen, staring at Olivia who was still looking at her with huge eyes. Her mind raced, processing what she had just learned. It just wasn't _logical_. It made absolutely no sense at all.

"No," she finally said. "That's not possible. You're lying."

"If you say so, Miss. But why would I lie?" Olivia looked at her plaintively. Hermione saw the girl, staring at her with her wide hazel eyes. No, she wasn't lying. As if attempting to shrug it off, Olivia made a half-hearted attempt at it and added, "Anyway, like I said, it was just a rumour."

"Do you believe it?"

Olivia flinched. She nodded slowly.

"Why?"

"Because I saw him," Olivia answered simply. "I saw him fighting against the Death Eaters, standing right by Harry Potter. I remember him because he was the one who saved me."

"He saved you?" Hermione repeated faintly, disbelief etched on every feature of her face.

This time, Olivia nodded vigorously. "I'll never forget his face. Or that night." Olivia sighed and moved toward the small table in the centre of the room. "You probably should sit," Olivia said. "It's a bit of a tale."

Sitting down next to her, Hermione saw the uneasiness written on Olivia's face. "You don't have to – "

"No," Olivia interjected. "I've remained silent long enough. It's just…" Olivia twisted her fingers anxiously, her head bent over. "I didn't… I suppose I should have expected it. Robert – my husband – was Muggleborn. He and I worked in the Ministry in Muggle Relations. Robert was the head of the office." Olivia laughed softly. "It was like holding a ticking time bomb, in all honesty. Most people had left the office because they were scared. We, being young and naïve, thought we could stick it out. Robert was brilliant at what he did. He understood nuances in Muggles like no one else. We thought we could make it. Then one night…" She trailed off.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione said softly, her voice full of sympathy.

Olivia smiled weakly. "I was out at my parents' with our son. When I came back, I found Robert… I found Robert lying on the floor, cold. Before I even had a chance to scream, they appeared. They told me they were waiting for me. They surrounded me and called me a blood traitor. I was on the floor, trying to cover my son, just hoping they would kill me first so I wouldn't have to watch him die."

Hermione's heart stopped. "How terrible," she somehow managed to utter.

"But the curses never came," Olivia continued. "I heard a loud noise and a lot of shouting. When I looked up, the Death Eaters had been broken up. And there where three people there, pushing them back. One of them was unmistakably Harry Potter." She blinked. "I don't really remember exactly what happened next. All I remember was that a Death Eater must have come up behind me. I heard her cast a spell… I'm not sure which one it was, but I think it was the Killing Curse because I remember a brilliant flash of green. But it missed… only because someone shoved me out of the way. He yelled at someone to go back for help. Then he looked me straight in the eye and asked me if I was all right. He had tried to cover up his face with his robes, but I recognized him. I had seen his father often, prancing around the Ministry like some overstuffed goose. And that was the last thing I saw before I went unconscious. When I came to, I was in St. Mungos. Broken, bruised, and a widow… but alive."

Neither of them said anything for a while. Olivia appeared to be deep in thought while valiantly holding back tears. Hermione, on the other hand, was trying hard to absorb everything she had just discovered in the past hour. Could it really be possible? None of this added up. If Malfoy was in the Order, she would have known. If Malfoy truly had stood by Harry, fighting to protect lives rather than destroy them, she would have known because he would have been standing by her side as well.

"Olivia," Hermione said gently, "are you _sure_ it was Malfoy you saw and not someone else? That night must have been completely chaotic for you. You could have easily mistaken – "

"I know what I saw," Olivia said adamantly. "What I saw was Draco Malfoy protecting me, asking me if I was all right."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

Olivia shrugged, her eyes downcast. "What could I say? I just figured that he turned on the Order. Those Malfoys are slippery ones and impossible to trust. At the time, I didn't think much of them not mentioning it in the paper. I guessed they didn't want to even suggest that there were problems within the Order. The Order was our last hope against You-Know-Who… After a while, everyone just agreed that Malfoy had been a Death Eater all along. And everyone believed he was You-Know-Who's go-to guy." She stopped and gave Hermione a twisted smile. "But he saved me and Robby. For that, I will always be grateful."

"And with his release? What are people saying about that?"

"I've never seen people so upset," Olivia replied, snorting a bit. "Oh goodness. You would think the Ministry just let _You-Know-Who_ go. People are calling for the Minister's head. A lot of people have lost faith in Davids… and the people _loved_ Davids."

"But the rumours…"

Olivia smiled sadly at Hermione. "People forget quickly, especially things they _want _to forget. It complicates things when not everything is black and white. Everyone knew Lucius Malfoy was a pure-blood elitist. No one was really that surprised when he turned out to be a Death Eater. Why should his son be any different?"

"And you?"

"I don't know," Olivia admitted. "My gut tells me that he's innocent. My heart tells me he's a good man. But my head… None of it makes sense at all."

"No," Hermione agreed. "It doesn't."

Olivia cocked her head and looked at Hermione with interest. "Why are you so interested in Draco Malfoy anyway?"

Hermione sat there, debating for a while, unsure of what to say. Should she tell her? This girl was a perfect stranger! They had just met a little over an hour ago. Still, Hermione couldn't deny she felt something of a connection with the brunette sitting across next to her. _I'm going crazy,_ Hermione thought.

This time, it was Olivia's turn to say, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want."

Hermione laughed bitterly. "Honestly? I don't even know _what_ to tell you. I'm not even sure what's going on."

"You could start with your name," Olivia suggested, smiling gently.

"Oh of course, "Hermione said, mentally slapping herself. "We've been sitting here chatting for so long and I haven't even the decency to tell you my name." She extended a hand to Olivia. "Hermione Granger… Weasley." Hermione couldn't believe how awkward it still was for her to refer to herself as Hermione _Weasley_. At work, she had gone by Hermione Granger, even after they had married. Not that Ron was happy about that, of course.

Olivia didn't take Hermione's hand. Instead, she stared at Hermione with big round eyes. She gasped and her hands flew to her mouth. "_Hermione Granger_? Oh. Oh my God." Olivia now was covering her face with her hands. "I'm so… Oh Merlin. I've made an utter fool of myself. I'm _so_ sorry, Mrs. Weasley." She quickly got out of her chair and started to walk away.

"No, please," Hermione pleaded, grabbing Olivia's arm. "Stay."

Although Olivia didn't continue walking away, she didn't sit back down either.

"_Please_," Hermione repeated. Finally, Olivia nodded and sat back down. "And call me Hermione," she added.

"All right," Olivia replied. She gave Hermione an embarrassed smile, her face flushed. "I can't believe I didn't recognise you."

Hermione waved that off. "I tried to remain out of the public eye," she joked. "Besides, everyone was more interested in Harry than me. Olivia, I need to ask you about…"

"I don't understand," Olivia said, cutting Hermione off. "You should know all of this better than me. Why are you asking me? You could ask Harry Potter. Or your husband. They were in the Order. _You_ were in the Order. You should know all of this."

"But I don't," Hermione said bitterly, "and I know Ron is lying to me about it. If Ron's lying, Harry will lie to me too. They're hiding something from me and I don't know what."

"But you should know," Olivia insisted. "You would know if Malfoy was in the Order. You should know about the rumours and capturing Malfoy. According to _The Daily Prophet_, you were the first on the scene."

"I know," Hermione said. "I read the article."

Olivia raised an eyebrow. "So does that mean it's not true?"

Hermione bit her lip. "I have absolutely no memory of being there. I have no memory of the arrest of Draco Malfoy. In fact, the last memory I have of Malfoy is the end of my sixth year." She closed her eyes and tried to think back three years ago. Shaking her head, she said, "It's all foggy. I can't even really recall the end of the war."

Olivia was silent for a while, gazing at Hermione as if she were examining her. "Has it always been like that?"

"I haven't really thought much about the war since it was over," Hermione confessed. "Harry and Ron always went on about how we needed to move on and not dwell on the past. They never discussed the war much." Hermione paused. "You know, now that I think of it… any time I _did_ mention the war, they would try to change the topic rather quickly."

"And you never found that _strange_?" Olivia was now openly staring at Hermione. "The war was absolutely huge. How could you just… pretend like it never happened?"

Hermione shook her head. "It was hard on all of us," she said. "The end, especially. Harry was injured so badly. There were so many deaths in the final battle… people I loved and cared about were gone. Everyone was so emotionally shaken."

"I still think that's strange," Olivia insisted.

"I rather agree with you," Hermione confessed.

Silence.

"So what then?" Olivia asked, finally breaking the silence. "Are we both just crazy conspiracy-mongers? Is _The Prophet_ lying?"

"No," Hermione said, her voice shaking. "Someone's lying, and for once it's not that damn rag."

Olivia said slowly, "Then the only other plausible option is…"

"Someone modified my memory," Hermione finished.

x x x

_The past is now another land  
Far beyond my reach  
Invaded by insidious  
Foreign bodies, foreign speech  
Where timeless joys of childhood  
Lie broken on the beach_

x x x

Draco opened the back door leading into the gardens. Now that it was nearly June, the gardens were in full bloom. His father had never been a gardener or one to go outside even, but he had always insisted on having extravagant gardens. Draco believed he saw flourishing greenery as a symbol of accomplishment. He could always see the utter satisfaction in his father's eyes anytime a guest complimented the thriving gardens.

In his younger years, Draco had thought that the time and magic spent on the garden was a waste. As he got older, Draco had taken up tending to the gardens in the summer, despite the elves' insistence that he let them. Slowly, he came to love the blooms and always felt pride during the summer when the garden was filled with blossoms.

It was a light, golden morning. Draco started down the narrow stone path that went through the rather expansive garden. He started through the archway, covered with climbing morning glories, opened to greet the morning sun.

Draco took in a breath. He could smell the grass, still slightly damp from the morning dew. There was also a soft tingle of magnolias. Now through the wicker archway, he passed by a fountain. It was (Draco thought) a rather repulsive looking chimera that his great-grandfather had placed in the garden years ago. Draco had softened the darkness of the area by replacing the rotting ivy surrounding it with sweet peas and bluebells. He smirked, thinking of how his dear, dear great-grandfather would react seeing his prized sculpture now.

Just a little past Jimmy the Chimera (as Draco fondly called it) was one of Draco's favourite parts of the garden. There was a little bench under a large oak tree with long, reaching branches, both of which were situated right by a large pond. During his absence from the manor, several ducks had taken up residence in this pond. Draco sat on the bench for a short while, watching with amusement as a female duck led a line of seven tiny fluffy ducklings, all squawking loudly as they struggled through the reeds and narcissuses. Draco had planted them there years ago in honour of his mother.

He really could have stayed there all day, but there was something in particular he had wanted to see. Draco took one last glance at the duckies. The mother duck had entered the water and now the little ones were plopping in after her. Seemingly content with their assertiveness, he finally got up and continued down the path.

In one corner of the garden, Draco had concentrated most of his gardening efforts. It was a small gated section that he had considered his own little haven. The gate looked a little rusty. Three years of rain and sun would do that, Draco reasoned. He pushed the gate and it opened with a loud creak. Draco grimaced. It was a rather unpleasant sound.

Looking around, Draco noticed that the garden was still quite neat. All the shrubs were neatly trimmed, the flowerbeds were free of weeds, and the small park bench looked immaculate. Apparently, Hetty had explicitly _ignored_ his commands to stay out. But surprisingly, Draco wasn't annoyed. Instead, he felt slightly pleased. Coming to the centre of the garden, Draco finally arrived at his destination. He frowned at what he saw.

"Hetty!" With a loud crack, the house elf appeared.

"What does sir want?" Hetty asked. When she realised where she was standing, Hetty panicked. "Oh, Hetty knows young master told her to stay out, but Hetty didn't wants young master's hard work to go to waste and Mistress enjoyed coming here _so_, Hetty couldn't…"

"It's all right, Hetty," Draco said reassuringly. "Everything looks lovely. You did a wonderful job."

"Thank you, sir!" Hetty as positively beaming.

Draco smiled at elf's glee. Hetty was the one who had taken care of him when he was younger, and he always felt an attachment to Hetty… though Draco had to confess that he had treated Hetty extremely poorly when he was younger. Under his father's influence of course – not that that was any excuse, but under his father's influence nonetheless.

"Hetty," Draco said, "I wanted to ask you about this bush."

Hetty peered at what Draco was pointing at. "Yes?"

"Well, why isn't it flowering?"

Hetty's eyes welled up. "I'm so sorry, young master. I knows this was the bush sir loved the most, and Hetty took care of it, sir, but no flowers came."

"None?" Draco's face fell.

Hetty shook her head, her eyes still sparkling with tears.

Draco sighed. _Just as well_, he supposed. "All right, Hetty. That's all. You should probably return to your work." Hetty nodded and disappeared.

Draco stood, staring at the offensively bare bush for a little while longer. He prodded it and immediately regretted that. The bush was thorny. _Stupid_, he berated himself. Bush – 1. Draco – 0. _I should probably head back. Mother will be wondering where I am._

When he returned to the manor, Draco could hear a distant clash of china.

"Draco, is that you?" his mother's voice called out.

"Yes, Mother," he called out. From the sound of her voice, Draco guessed she was in the small sun room by the kitchen.

When Draco appeared in the doorway, Narcissa smiled, acknowledging his presence. "Would you like some tea, Draco?" she asked, gesturing at the tea tray resting on the small round table before her. "I've also asked Milly to prepare some breakfast for you. I'm sure you are hungry after your stroll."

Besides her unrestrained display of emotion upon his return, his mother had remained rather calm in spite of everything, Draco thought. She hadn't changed much. Although it didn't seem she intended to go out, Draco noticed his mother was still wearing rather fine silk robes in a light blue edged with silver thread. Her thin blonde hair was gently gathered atop her head. Most of all, she still carried an air of importance. This image of his mother was the same now as it was three years ago. Yet she seemed distinctly different than the mother he knew before he went to Azkaban.

Looking at her again, he knew what it was. _She smiles more._

"Thank you, Mother," Draco responded. "Really, you should join me. A morning walk would be good for you. Enjoy the fresh air and all that."

Scoffing, Narcissa lifted her cup to her lips. After taking a slow sip, she said, "Oh, Draco, you know I would hardly do such a silly thing like that. The sun is terrible for my skin, and all the bugs hovering about the flowers would bother me."

_That's not what Hetty told me_, Draco thought. But he didn't bother to correct her. Instead, he sat down in the chair next to her.

Wordlessly, his mother poured him a cup of tea, adding a little sugar and a dash of cream. She handed it to him. "The way you like it," she said.

Draco took a small sip and set the cup back down. They hadn't talked much since his return. It was just over a week now, and this had been so far their most meaningful conversation. Not that Narcissa had been much of a conversationalist before (Malfoy women were generally told to be seen and not heard) but Draco had longed to speak with his mother. He wanted to know what she had been doing for the last four years since he left the Dark Lord.

"Mother?" he asked.

"Yes, Draco?" she replied evenly.

How to go about this? Draco considered his words carefully before finally uttering, "What did you do when I left?"

Narcissa tensed. Seeing her reaction, Draco almost regretted bringing it up. But he needed to know. "I went to your aunt," she said.

Draco's jaw clenched. "Bellatrix?" he asked coldly.

Narcissa shook her head. "Do you think Bella would have taken me after your failed mission?" Draco recoiled at that. _Failed_. "She laughed at me. Laughed in my face. So I went to Andromeda, who, surprisingly, took me in. When the war was over, I returned to Malfoy Manor. The Ministry constantly tried to take the property away from our family, but I still had some connections. I managed to keep it under a protectorate hoping one day you would be released." She shook with fervor. "It was my only hope."

"I'm sorry, Mother," Draco whispered.

"Don't be foolish."

"I failed you. My mission. Then with the Order."

Narcissa turned to look at her son, her blue eyes dark and flaming with anger. Draco had _never_ seen his mother so uninhibited. "The _Order_?" she spat out. "You're apologising for that scum? First those dirty blood traitors take my husband and then turn around and call _my son_ a traitor." She shook her head furiously. "No. _No_. They may have won the war, but it does not mean they are right. Since the war was over, they have celebrated by laughing at me. They embrace the Muggles but scorn us. That's what they call justice! No. Never mention that bloody name to me again."

The topic was dropped. Draco knew better than to press the subject. The rest of the conversation tapered off slowly until finally they were sitting in complete silence.

x x x  
_  
The present is an empty space  
Between the good and bad  
A moment leading nowhere  
Too pointless to be sad  
But time enough to lay to waste  
Every certainty I had_

x x x

Hermione spent the rest of the day in a daze. How could she go back and face her friends that hid secrets from her? How could she go home and sleep in the same bed with the man who couldn't tell her the truth?

It had taken some time, but finally, Olivia convinced her to continue her day like nothing happened. The two agreed that until they got some more concrete evidence, it would be best that Hermione say nothing to Ron or Harry… or anyone else for that matter. Olivia promised to be on the lookout for information and swore she'd contact Hermione as soon as she caught wind of anything.

So, begrudgingly, Hermione returned to the Burrow to retrieve Aiden. At Mrs. Weasley's request and after getting Ron's okay, she agreed to stay there for dinner. Dinner was a strange affair. Hermione was unused to the heavy weight of withholding something from her husband and her family. She opted to remain silent, watching as the small crowd around her chatted amiably. Were these people – friends and family that she'd known for years – hiding something from her?

After dinner, she and Ron with little Aiden in tow Flooed back to their place. It was rather late. Hermione quickly went to Aiden's room, dodging right by Ron. She lingered in her son's room even after she was sure his steady breathing would continue through the night. She watched his little chest rise and fall as he slept peacefully, dreaming innocently. Hermione envied him.

Realising she could not avoid Ron forever, she timidly walked into their bedroom. Ron had already changed into his grey flannels and was sitting up in bed, perusing _Quidditch Quarterly_. When he heard her enter, he glanced up and smiled at her. Wavering, Hermione smiled a bit back, and Ron returned his gaze to his magazine.

"Hey, 'Mione," he said distractedly. "How was your day?"

"All right," Hermione replied. _That was good. That was really good_! Hermione mentally praised herself. _Short, quick answers. The less I say the better._ She sat down in front of her vanity and began furiously brushing her hair.

Ron flipped a few pages in his magazine. "What errands were you running? I didn't hear you mention anything about that."

Hermione nearly dropped her brush. "Wh-what?"

Ron gave her a funny look. "Your errands," he repeated. "Mum said you left Aiden with her for a few hours and went off to Diagon Alley for a bit."

"Oh. Oh right!" Hermione's mind was swimming. "I went… to Flourish and Bott's. I wanted to pick up a book, and I didn't want to be carrying Aiden around the bookstore."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Thank Merlin. The poor little thing probably would have been bored out of his mind."

Normally, Hermione might have snapped back, but she remained silent, pensive instead. Slowly she made her way to bed, pulling the covers over her.

"Are you okay, Hermione?" Ron gave her a look of concern. "You don't quite seem yourself. You were awfully quiet at dinner tonight, and now you're rather silent. Normally you won't shut up. Is something wrong? Is there something you want to tell me?"

Hermione fidgeted with the sheets, pulling and twisting them in her hands. Taking a deep breath, Hermione looked Ron in the eyes and gave him a convincing smile. "No, no," she said. "I'm just rather tired. The whole day has had me all tuckered out. Nothing's wrong. I'm just tired."

Apparently satisfied with this answer, Ron smiled and kissed Hermione on her temple. "All right, you rest up then," he said. "'Nite."

Hermione put her head down on her pillow and turned her back to Ron, trying desperately to fall asleep. Lying to him had been easy. Almost too easy.

x x x

_The future is a barren world  
From which I can't return  
Both heartless and material  
Its wretched spoils not my concern  
Shining like an evil sun  
As my childhood treasures burn_

x x x

Later that night, Draco sat by the window in his bedroom, gazing out at the garden. The silvery moonlight illuminated the jasmine and cast long shadows along the hedges. His finger traced the ornate wooden frame that lined the glass.

What would tomorrow bring? He didn't know. Maybe he didn't want to know. Tomorrow was bleak. Would his past haunt him forever? Draco closed his eyes. After imprisonment in Azkaban and being labeled as a Death Eater, what future could Draco possibly have?

His mother had had hope. She hadn't said so, but that was all that kept her going. She had managed to bide by, alone and unwanted because she had one dream to keep her alive. Hope. Purpose. That's what people needed to keep going. But he had none. Maybe before – three years ago… but that was three years and an Azkaban sentence ago. Too long, too far, and too impossible. Draco laughed to himself. That was what he had thought three years ago too. But no, now it was impossible. He knew that.

Resentments ran deeply, Draco reckoned. His mother would never reconcile with the Order. She had hated them on principle before. When the tables turned, she went to their side. But then, they did something to make her truly loathe them. The fragile trust that had begun to form was prematurely destroyed by hasty action.

As he pondered this, Draco began to wonder if he was thinking about his mother… or himself.

* * *

**AN:** I realise the wording sounds a bit like Draco hates the Order, but that's not what it means at all. I would change the wording, but I prefer it this way. Just know it doesn't mean he hates the Order... though this should be clear from Draco and Harry's interaction. How about Draco the gardener eh? It wasn't a trait I had planned on giving to him but I think it really works quite well. And how do you guys like Olivia? I'm always wary of when people create characters, but I felt Hermione needed a companion she could talk openly to. And how's Narcissa? I doubt she'll play a huge role in the story later on, but her characterization was something I spent quite a bit of time considering.

Review and tell me what you think!!!


	8. The Ghost of You

**AN: **Wow, thanks for all the reviews on the last chapter. Sorry this one took so long. It was very difficult to write for some reason, but I rather think the work was worth it.

Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who took the time and effort to review! **ShatteredTruth **and **BlueIrishEyes**, as always, and **cmtaylor531, ghzowy, ravenclaw123, Hermione09Weasley, lostxatx7thxsea, adrianna100, **and **BellePrincesse168**! lostxatx7thxsea: Yes, my Draco is definitely and infinitely different than how JK has portrayed him thus far in the books, but this is how I think Draco's personality would have changed and grown after what he's been through. He's still a smarmy ferret though, don't worry!

Your feedback not only makes me smile but it provides me insight on my story that I can't see, you know, being the author and all. Like how it seems like everyone doesn't like Harry or Ron. Oh dear. Well, those two will have their say by the end of the story.

A super HUGE thank you to my wonderful friend and beta **ideabunny** for editing this chapter. Without you, this chapter would be riddled with terrible grammar mistakes!! And missing verbs. And she's been awesome about listening to me obsess over this story, about characterizations, plot, etc. So THAAAANKS. hugs

Well without further ado, here's this chapter.

* * *

**Stand and Watch It Burn**

**VIII. The Ghost of You**

Hermione signed the note she was writing and tied it around Pig's leg. Now that he was older, he was easier to manage, but he was still a handful. He was hopping furiously, waiting for Hermione to let him out. Aiden was sitting up, giggling and trying to reach for the feathery fiend.

"All right, Pig," Hermione said, finally opening the window. "Go give Ginny my note." Pig hooted and flew out.

Ginny had owled Hermione early that morning, asking Hermione to come over later that afternoon to help her finalise some decisions about flowers and bridesmaid dresses. Hermione knew she had to say yes, but there had been a moment of hesitation nonetheless. Flowers and dresses were the furthest things from Hermione's mind right now, and she wasn't sure if she could sit there by Ginny pretending to smile and be excited.

But she'd said yes. Hermione needed normalcy in her life right now, and helping Ginny plan for her wedding was better than just moping around the house, wondering what on earth was going on. The last few days were straining. Luckily for her, Ron had been busy and distracted with work. Of course, Hermione had no idea what it was about since Ron barely told her anything. But from what little Ron did tell her, Hermione could tell it was serious. He had come home late every night, and almost as soon as he came home, he went to bed.

Hermione picked up Aiden and went downstairs into the kitchen. She sighed, looking at the stack of dishes that had piled up in the sink over the last few days. _Bugger_, she thought. _I suppose I better get on it._

"Hermione?"

Hermione craned her neck around the opening of the kitchen. To her surprise, her fire was up and roaring and there was something in the flames.

"Hermione?" the voice asked again.

"_Olivia?_" Hermione exclaimed as she walked closer to the fireplace.

"Oh, thank goodness, I was starting to think I had the wrong fireplace. That would have been absolutely mortifying!"

Hermione laughed. "No, you got the right one."

"Would you mind if I come over? I have something to share with you."

"Oh! Of course."

In a few minutes, Olivia appeared, carrying a large bag. As soon as she stepped through, she gave Hermione a big hug.

"It's good to see you!"

"You too," Hermione responded wholeheartedly. Truth be told, she hadn't expected to see Olivia again. She had been hopeful after her visit in the library, but as each day passed, her doubt had increased until all hope just vanished. But now, Olivia was standing in her living room.

"And who's this?" Olivia asked, bending over to where Aiden was sitting on the floor.

Hermione beamed. "This is Aiden. Say hi to Auntie Olivia, Ai," she cooed, holding up Aiden's little hand. Aiden squirmed and giggled. "I think he likes you," she remarked.

"I like him too. Aren't you a cute little ball of sunshine? Yes you are!" Olivia started playing with Aiden's hands as he grinned toothlessly at her. "He's adorable, Hermione. How old is he?"

"Almost five months now. Where's Robby?"

"Oh, at his grandparents'." Olivia was now trying to teach Aiden how to do a high five. "High five, Aiden! High… look, you do this. Okay, one more time. High five…! No, Aiden look this way. See when I hold up _my_ hand you hit it and that's a high five, okay? All right, Aiden… High five!"

"Olivia, he's not a puppy."

"I know, but he's so cute. I remember when Robby was this little." She smiled fondly. "They grow up so fast. I know everyone says that all the time, but goodness it's so true. Robby's almost four now. He looks more and more like his father every day."

"It must be hard," Hermione remarked, "to raise him alone."

Olivia pressed her lips together and slowly breathed in and out. "It is," she said shortly. Rising up, she put on a big smile and clapped her hands. "Well, then!" she said in an artificially cheery voice. "The reason I came here…"

"You mean you didn't just come to visit?" Hermione teased.

Olivia's face broke into a genuine grin. "Do you want to know why I came or not?"

"What did you find?"

"Plenty," Olivia said as patted the bag she carried on her arm.

"Well, let me get some tea started and we can look over the stuff you found."

x x x

_ Here... and there...  
Haunting my closets and drawers  
my Evermore..._

x x x

Draco was now very annoyed. He narrowed his eyes and examined the infernal clock on the wall. It very clearly read 10:05. _10:06_. Six minutes now. _Jesus Christ_, Draco fumed. _Is Potter late for everything? _He was late again. Not that Draco had to be anywhere anytime soon but this colourful room was definitely starting to agitate Draco, and he could swear that it was starting to affect his vision. Draco tried to focus his eyes on one of the wall hangings. Yes, things were definitely starting to look a bit blurry.

Without warning, the door swung open and a blur of black hair sped by.

"Sorry, Malfoy," Harry said hurriedly, shuffling files and papers around his desk. "Everything in this office is an absolute mess right now. There's so much going on right now…"

Draco sat, silent, merely glowering at Harry's back.

"So," Harry said, plopping into his chair. "How are you?"

Draco's look changed to one of disbelief. Was Potter trying to make small talk? "Excuse me?"

"How are you?" Harry repeated as if it were the most obvious thing anyone could say in that situation. "How was your week? Anything unusual? Strange occurrences? Threats?"

"Er… no, I just stayed mostly in the manor all week… What on earth are you rambling on about, Potter?"

"What places did you visit this past week?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Potter, I didn't realise we were exchanging niceties."

"Just answer the question, Malfoy."

"Am I obligated to?"

Harry looked coolly at the man sitting on the other side of his desk. "Do you have anything to hide?"

"Fair enough," Draco answered. "Like I said, I stayed mostly in the manor. I did make a stop in Diagon Alley to pick up a new cauldron. That's all. You don't really expect me to be wandering around the wizarding world do you, Potter? Everyone bloody hates me."

Harry nodded. "You remember the terms of your release."

"Yeah."

"No Dark Arts."

"_Yes._"

"Let me examine your wand and you'll be on your way."

"You mean I waited six whole minutes for a two minute examination?" Draco asked sarcastically. "That was well worth the wait. It's almost better than going in for my annual check-up… when I have to wait a whole bloody hour for a five minu…"

"Do you want to go or not, Malfoy?"

Draco practically threw his wand at Harry, who didn't even blink as he caught it. _Goddamn reflexes_, Draco thought sullenly. That was probably why the Dark Lord couldn't off Potter. Anytime he'd get close, Potter and his goddamn reflexes would just run away and hide behind a rock which conveniently happened to be there, just so Potter could jump behind it.

"Here," Harry said, handing Draco back his wand. When Draco didn't move, Harry said, "You can go now."

x x x

_And now...  
And then...  
Forgetting that everything's changed  
I call her name..._

x x x

Harry watched as Malfoy exited the room, slamming the door behind him. Sighing, he ran his hand through his hair.

Seeing Malfoy again was strangely difficult. Almost as strangely difficult as seeing Snape again. Harry had expected a certain amount of ambivalence during their first meeting, but he was surprised at exactly how ambivalent he was. He had thought – or hoped, maybe – that after the initial shock of seeing Malfoy again, he could go back to simply hating Malfoy. And he did… mostly, anyway. Any feeling of friendship was gone, really. Not that he and Malfoy had been _friends_ of any sort. Well almost. They had been almost friends. Of course, he and Malfoy never really could have been friends, so to speak. At least, he'd never admit it.

But Ron _was _his friend. His best friend. And three years ago, when he had to choose a side to stand on, it wasn't hard at all. Besides, he had seen with his own eyes what had happened, and there hadn't been a shadow of a doubt in his mind then. Three years ago, he was absolutely convinced.

Now, seeing Malfoy again… well, Harry couldn't quite explain it. All he knew was he wasn't quite as certain as he had been three years ago.

Shaking his head, Harry tried to clear his mind. He had tons of work to do. He couldn't sit around, moping about Draco Malfoy. Things had been awfully busy lately.

Someone knocked on his door. "Harry?"

"Come in."

It was Ron. "Hey, so I was wondering if I could have the day off tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Harry consulted his calendar. "June 5th?"

Ron nodded. "It's our anniversary, me and Hermione's."

Harry slapped himself on the head. "Oh, right, of course. Ron, you know we're busy as hell around here. There's been a lot of stuff going on and…"

"Yeah, I know, but I really feel like I need to take the day off and spend some extra time with Hermione. We've been working like dogs these past few days, and I haven't really had time to just talk to her. I can tell she's upset I haven't been really paying attention to her lately. You know how she gets. All quiet and sullen and expecting you to read her mind. I bet she doesn't even think I remember our anniversary."

"Can't you just… take her out to a nice dinner and buy her flowers or something?"

Ron gave Harry a scandalous look. "Are you mad, man? Clearly, you are not yet married."

Just then, Kingsley Shacklebolt entered the room. "Potter," he said. "Er… am I interrupting something?"

"The unmarried man is giving me advice on how to spend my wedding anniversary," Ron informed Kingsley.

Kingsley stared at Ron, unsure of what to make of the situation. "Ri-ight," he said. "Potter, there's been reports of some action in Kensington. Tonks and I think you should send some scouts to investigate what's been going on… but we think it's pretty serious."

Harry nodded. He gave Ron a _I-told-you-so_ look, and Ron responded with a _but-Hermione-will-kill-me_ look. Sighing, Harry threw up his hands in the air. "Fine! Ron, take tomorrow off if you go to Kensington today. And don't even think of leaving early tonight. You're going to be working overtime today if you really want to take a day off."

Ron grinned. "Thanks, mate. You're the best."

"Right," Harry said.

x x x

_And I heard the stories  
She tried to tell me  
I don't believe in ghosts._

x x x

Many different issues of _The Daily Prophet _and other news magazines were spread out across the kitchen table. Hermione picked up one in particular and shook it in Olivia's face.

"_The Quibbler?_"

"Read it," Olivia urged.

Hermione looked more closely to examine the cover story. "_Draco Malfoy: Good or Evil? _They didn't…"

"They were the only one," Olivia said, "to even suggest that perhaps Malfoy wasn't a Death Eater. Of course, half the story is absolute rubbish, and most people consider anything in _The Quibbler _to be garbage anyway. But I thought it might be worth a look since Lios Lovegood's daughter was involved with the Order."

"Luna," Hermione said.

Olivia nodded. "Strange girl," she commented. "We were in the same house, but I was a few years ahead, so I never really talked to her, but from what I heard, she was quite strange. Never really saw much of her, but sometimes in the common room, she would be in a corner by herself, reading _The Quibbler_."

"Luna was always a bit odd," Hermione admitted.

"Well, anyway," Olivia continued, "I just brought anything and everything I could that mentioned Draco Malfoy and his arrest. And I noticed something really strange."

"What's that?" Hermione asked, picking up another article.

"Details changed around a lot. First it was Malfoy. Then it was Malfoy and a group of Death Eaters. Then it was Malfoy _leading_ the Death Eaters. The story describing Malfoy became progressively worse. Some sources say it happened during the daytime, but then that changed to 'middle of the night.' Makes it sound more dodgy, I suppose."

"The media is hardly reliable."

"True," Olivia said. "But in spite of all those variations, the stories all seem to include one very important, common detail: the location. The story always takes place in Remus Lupin's cabin."

"Lupin's cabin," Hermione mused. "Why would they be there?"

"No one can seem to figure that out either," Olivia remarked. "Lots and lots of speculation."

"None of which is right!" Hermione fumed. "Most of them say they were trying to convince Remus to join the Dark Side. That makes no sense at all. Lupin was Head of the Order, for Merlin's sake. Why would they even bother trying?"

"Seems like no one wanted to admit a werewolf was in charge of the organization saving our arses," Olivia commented. "People still haven't given Lupin his due."

"But it still begs the question as to why Malfoy was in Lupin's cabin," Hermione pressed.

"Yes," Olivia nodded, "which is why I thought we should go investigate."

"Yeah," Hermione said. Running her hand through all the newspapers, Hermione sighed. "I can't believe I missed all of this," she added softly.

Olivia reached over for Hermione's hand, patting it reassuringly. "It's not your fault, Hermione."

Hermione smiled weakly. "I should have…"

"No," Olivia said firmly. "I won't let you blame yourself. It was not your fault, all right?"

"All right," Hermione mumbled.

"Good," Olivia said. "Now, Lupin's cabin. I did some research, and I think I know where it is."

x x x

_Here...  
The sound...  
Maybe it's her coming home  
But I'm alone... _

x x x

Draco was in a sour mood by the time he got home. He hated that he had to check in with Potter every week. He absolutely loathed Potter's ridiculous office which mocked him with its bright, cheerful colours and pictures of ridiculously happy people. This week was worse than the last too. As he was leaving, he saw a shock of red hair that looked suspiciously like Weasley's. Were the Aurors really _that_ desperate they had to hire the absolutely incompetent Weasley? Riding the coattails of his best friend's success, Draco figured. After all, what had Weasley ever done that was remotely heroic? What had Weasley ever done to deserve what he had?

He knew he was being petulant, but Draco had taken care to slam any door on his way out of the Ministry. _God damn Weasley_.

The moment he arrived back in the manor, Milly appeared with a crack.

"Mistress wants young master to know she's waiting for him in the green drawing room," she squeaked.

Draco sighed and nodded. "Fine. Tell her I'll be there in a few minutes."

The green drawing room was much cleaner now than when Draco had come across it two weeks ago, but there was still a detached, distant feeling about it.

When he got to the drawing room, he was greeted by the sight of his mother surrounded by bags and bags of things. "Draco," she said, "come here, son. Look at these things I've bought for you."

Draco groaned slightly. "Mother…"

"You need new things," his mother continued. "You need a fresh start. Throw out all your old things and replace them with these."

"I like my old things, Mother."

"Here's a new dressing gown, just like your old one. I had to get it specially ordered. What happened to that anyway? Oh, and here. New dress robes, and here's new _everyday_ robes. I bought you new shoes and a new hat…"

He had reached a new ultimate low. His _mother_ was shopping for him. "Mother," he said, shaking one of the dress robes, "this is _bright blue_."

Narcissa looked up. "Yes, and?"

Draco held it up. He felt nauseous just looking at them. "I don't _wear_ bright blue."

Narcissa sighed. "Oh, Draco, please, they are lovely robes and you would look so handsome in them."

"For what, Mother? For who to see? And… I. Don't. Wear. Bright. Blue."

"Draco, they cost me 130 Galleons. You will wear them."

Draco threw the robe down. "I'm not in the mood for this right now, Mother."

"Don't you turn away… Draco! Where are you going?"

_Away from here,_ Draco thought. He went upstairs to his room. He barreled through the door and dropped onto his bed. Burrowing his head into the pillows, he desperately tried to just get a grip. He couldn't be like this. He couldn't let them get to him like this. _Three years,_ he reminded himself fiercely. _Three damn long years. _

Mysteriously, Draco smelled the trace of a different scent in his sheets. Perplexed, Draco tried to pin down exactly what it was. It was familiar, but he couldn't place it. Draco's mind ran wildly until he finally knew what it was. Cinnamon.

"_What the hell are you doing?"_

"_Banana muffins with a crumb topping. Would you like one?"_

In a rage, Draco tore off the sheets and threw them across his room. _Fuck them. Fuck them all._ He didn't care.

Just then, there was a rapping at his bedroom window. Outside was a handsome tawny owl, hooting softly. Reluctantly, Draco went over and let the owl in.

"What is it," he snapped at the inoffensive creature.

The owl hooted benignly and offered Draco his leg. Draco removed the letter and read it.

_Dear Draco,_

_I haven't heard from you in ages, and it'd be wonderful to see you again. If you would come over for dinner tomorrow, it would be absolutely lovely. My wife and I would be happy to have you._

_Yours,_

_Alan Davids_

What the hell was Davids playing at? Draco stared at the letter. _His lawyer_ for Merlin's sake. _His lawyer_ invited him to dinner. He wasn't that needy for company. Who needed company anyway? All _company_ had ever done for him was get him in trouble.

Draco pulled out a piece of parchment and furiously wrote his rejection.

x x x

_No I never seen one  
Never been one  
I don't believe in ghosts. _

x x x

Sunlight filtered in through the foliage, illuminating the trees and plant life. Wildflowers sprung up from the ground, adding flecks of colour to the clumps of grass. It was, Hermione thought, in spite of being so far away from civilization, a rather cheery forest. But as she walked through, she couldn't shake off the strange, ominous feeling filling her.

"Over this way," Olivia said.

Hermione followed Olivia, her head still turning around to look at everything. There was something about this place. _Something_.

The forest was full of mainly rowan trees, speckled with soft white blooms. There were the occassional birch and elder trees. As Hermione continued to trudge behind Olivia, she noticed a handsome oak tree on her right. Captivated by it, she slowly approached it. Cautiously, she reached out and gently rested a hand on the rough bark.

_An oak tree. A bench, underneath its budding branches. A gentle breeze, softening the warm rays of the sun. A scent of spring._

"_Where are you taking me?"_

"_It's a surprise. If I told you it wouldn't be a surprise anymore, would it?"_

"_You're being childish."_

"_We're almost there. It's just past that gate…"_

"Hermione?"

Blinking, Hermione stepped back and stared at the oak tree in bewilderment. _What just happened there?_

"Hermione?" Olivia's voice was drawing nearer.

"I'm here," Hermione called back.

Olivia appeared from behind a birch tree. "Oh thank goodness. I turned around and you'd disappeared. I had no idea what happened to you and I was starting to get worried."

Hermione gave the oak tree one last look. "I'm all right," she said finally. "So, the cabin?"

"This way," Olivia said, gesturing with her head.

Olivia started walking off, and Hermione followed suit. Her feet were moving forward, but her mind was still back with the oak tree. _What happened there? It was so strange._ The scene that played in her head was something completely foreign to her… and yet there was something about it she faintly recognized…

"I think it's just past this clearing," Olivia said.

They had come upon an open part of the forest. It was somewhat large, covered with soft, green grass and spotted with dandelions. Hermione looked up at the brilliantly blue sky and stared at the sun, shining fiercely.

"_When do you think it will be over?"_

"_When will what be over?"_

"_You know."_

"_Not soon enough…"_

"Hermione, are you all right?"

"What?" Hermione felt slightly dazed.

"You look kinda faint. Are you feeling okay?"

"I feel… slightly… woozy," Hermione admitted.

Olivia laughed. "Staring at the sun might do that for you. Don't you know that can cause blindness? We're almost there. I can see it now. Let's go."

They reached the cabin without any further episodes. Hermione stared at the little cabin in front of them. It was small and looked run down… like no one had been there in three years.

Olivia pushed the door open, and the two of them stepped in. The cabin was in a state of absolute disarray.

"My goodness," Olivia said, stepping over a pile of fallen books. "This place is a mess. Watch for that glass," she warned, pointing to a shattered mirror. "And Lord, the kitchen is completely destroyed. I'm going to go check the bedroom."

Hermione bent over the pile of books Olivia had walked by. She sifted through the books, examining them. _The Mayor of Casterbridge _by Thomas Hardy. _Wuthering Heights_ by Emily Bronte. _Crime and Punishment_ by Fyodor Dostoevsky. _The Age of Innocence_ by Edith Wharton. Hermione smiled. Apparently, she and Lupin shared the same taste in Muggle literature.

There was also a small assortment of wizarding titles. _Quidditch Through the Ages._ Hermione rolled her eyes. Of course Lupin loved Quidditch. _Hogwarts, a History_ also was among them, standing out in its recognizable red cover. Underneath that was an old looking book. Hermione opened the cover. On the title page was the title _Y Goddodin_, written in elaborate script. Underneath were the words, "Llyfr Aneirin."

"_I like that. I think it's perfect."_

Hermione pushed the book away. _What is that doing here?_

"Hermione, I think you should take a look at this."

Snapping her head up, Hermione looked wildly around to see where the voice was coming from. "Olivia? Where are you?"

"In the bedroom," she responded.

Hermione pushed herself up and walked across the living room and into the small bedroom. She stopped by Olivia's side. "What is it?"

"Look," Olivia said.

Like the rest of the cabin, the room was a mess. There were two broken chairs. A couple of torn pillows lay on top of the rumpled forest green sheets of the bed. The dresser was on its side and its drawers were hanging open, clothes falling out of them. Several smashed picture frames were crushed underneath the dresser. By the door, there were two hooks, and Hermione could see what appeared to be the remains of dressing gowns hanging from them – one a green satin and the other a scarlet terry.

"Two of everything. Lupin wasn't alone," Olivia said shrewdly.

Hermione's attention, however, was fixated on the shreds hanging precariously on the hooks.

_Green satin with silvery trim. "My mother bought it for me," he had explained._

"_But you like it. The colours. You would."_

"_Naturally. But I do rather fancy yours as well."_

"_But it's red."_

"_Yes, but it is also _very _short."_

"_Malfoy!…"_

"Damn, these are some nice sheets," Olivia said, holding them up.

Hermione turned and gave the sheets a look. Recognition dawned on her face and she laughed. "You'd think so, but Malfoy constantly complained about them. Apparently even Egyptian cotton is hardly good enough for him."

Olivia gave her a strange look. "What?"

"What?" Hermione blinked.

"Hermione, you just… you just said…"

"What did I say?" Hermione asked, confused.

"You said… You said_ Malfoy_ complained about these sheets. Why would he complain about these sheets? And how would you know?"

Hermione felt her pulse racing. "I… did?"

Olivia nodded severely.

"Oh, Merlin," Hermione whispered, closing her eyes. Images flashed in her mind. The cabin, looking neat and tidy, quaint and charming. Filling the empty bookshelves with some of her favourite titles. A sink full of dishes. Malfoy's smirk.

Drawing in a ragged breath, Hermione tried to steady herself. She knew now why everything seemed so familiar. "Olivia," she said slowly, "I think… I remember now. Draco Malfoy… he… we were here. He was in this cabin, and I was with him. But not like _The Prophet_ says. He wasn't here looking for Lupin. He was hiding here. Draco Malfoy _was_ part of the Order… and I was his guard."

* * *

**AN: **Aha. Here we are! Slowly, bit by bit, Hermione's starting to remember. It's a rather painful revelation for her. 

Song lyrics: "I Don't Believe in Ghosts" by Duncan Sheik, the mastermind behind Spring Awakening.

So what do we think? I'm not usually one to pander for reviews but can we hit double digits?


	9. When They Compromised

**AN: **Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. ** lostxatx7thxsea, ShatteredTruth, CrystalizedHeart, Mela, BlueIrishEyes, adrianna100, **and **cmtaylor531**. Seriously, you guys rock my world. And you know what BIE? When you noticed the detail about Aiden's middle name, I was really surprised. I didn't think anyone would catch that. Raised an eyebrow, I did.

Unfortunately, these next few days, I will be utterly and completely busy. I'll be busy packing, preparing for my return home, so I don't know when I'll have time to write the next chapter. (Though, this time, at least I know what I'm going to write!) And truthfully, this story's been really consuming. It's eating me alive. But it does warm my heart when you review. (Har har.)

Thanks to **ideabunny** once again for her amazing editing skillz. (Yes, skills with a z.)

So here it is. Another memory.

* * *

**Stand and Watch It Burn**

**IX. When They Compromised**

**Three years ago…**

Hermione looked up to the ceiling, searching for patience. It was up there somewhere. It had to be. Malfoy was really getting on her last nerve. Sometimes Hermione wondered if he was doing it on purpose. Most of the time, she could swear he was. He certainly did seem to get some sort of devilish enjoyment out of it.

She'd been looking after Malfoy for almost a week now. No one had taken to that arrangement well. Not her, not him, and especially not Ron.

"Harry, this is absurd! You can't leave Hermione with that git!"

"Ron, I know you don't like it, but Remus and I agree… Hermione's the best choice. She certainly can handle Malfoy."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about _that_."

"Shut it, Malfoy."

"Bite me, Weasley."

"Ron, it's decided. There's no point in arguing. Hermione's already agreed."

"But can't _someone else_ do it?"

"What, you don't think I can do it, Ron?"

"I'm sure you're able to, love, I just don't think it's best…"

"I can do it, Ronald. And I think I know what's best for me, thank you."

"But _Hermione_…"

"Weasley, you're utterly pathetic."

"Stop laughing, ferret! I swear, if you _hurt her_, Malfoy…"

"Please. She may be Muggleborn, but she's not stupid like you. I don't think your little girlfriend needs you to protect her. More like the other way around."

"Ron, _stop_. Don't you see he's just trying to rile you up? No! Don't. RONALD!"

"Hermione, let go!"

"Ron, Hermione's right, just stop. Punching him won't do anything..."

"It will make me feel better! Look at him just sitting there and smirking! Let me punch that smirk off his face…"

"Ron, stop being so stupid!"

"Just once…"

"RONALD WEASLEY! YOU SODDING IDIOT."

"Hermione, where… hey, Hermione, wait!"

Hermione had gotten so frustrated. She couldn't stay any longer. Ron and Harry were leaving the next day to follow another lead Harry had mysteriously received, and she was likely not to see him for at least a week. And all he wanted to do was to argue about Malfoy. She was so angry she had told him she was _happy_ to be watching Malfoy instead of going with him. Ron had departed without so much as saying goodbye to her.

Hermione later regretted saying that. She missed him. A lot. Malfoy was annoying. He was constantly complaining. After years of having house elves and never having to so much as lift a finger, he very clearly was not accustomed to doing things for himself. He complained when he had to do dishes. He complained when Hermione made him do his own laundry. He complained about Remus' cabin, where they were staying. He complained about the nice bed Remus had graciously conjured up for him in the living room. Merlin, he even complained that the sheets were "_only"_ Egyptian cotton and not silk.

As the first week wore on, the complaining became less frequent, and Malfoy reverted to insulting her and finding other ways to harass Hermione. He'd get in jabs about her blood and about Ron whenever he could. And when he wasn't doing that, he was just plain annoying.

One night, they were sitting at the table in the kitchen. Remus was off on another mission (doing what, he never would say). He hadn't given them specifics, but Hermione anticipated he would be back rather soon. For tonight, though, it was just the two of them. She had made a simple dinner of porkchops and string beans and the two had eaten, then, in utter silence.

Although he was no longer eating, Malfoy remained at his seat. He began pushing around the remaining string beans. _Kyeeechhh_. _Kyeeeechhh_. The scraping noise his fork made when dragged across the plates was starting to get on Hermione's nerves.

"Don't play with your food," Hermione said sharply.

Malfoy quirked an eyebrow. An evil smile started to creep across his face. "Oh?" he asked. "And what if I do?" _Kyeeechhh_. _Kyeeeechhh_.

Hermione glared at him. "_Accio_ fork." The fork flew out of Malfoy's hand and into Hermione's.

Unfazed, Malfoy picked up his knife and proceeded to poke the string beans around his plate. Hermione could hardly believe this. Part of her wanted to scream at him to stop, and another part of her was simply confounded that _Draco Malfoy – _of all people! – was sitting across the table from her, prodding string beans with a butter knife.

"_Accio_ knife."

Malfoy reached for the spoon.

"_Accio _spoon." Hermione collected the flying spoon. "Malfoy, are you bored? You're playing with string beans, for Merlin's sake."

"What the bloody hell do you think, Granger? You're my only company. I've been staring at these same walls for the last week. Of course I'm bored! I'm bored out of my sodding mind!"

"Look, I'm not exactly here on vacation either, so if you could just _please_ bear it for another few days…"

"Another few days?! Are you kidding me Granger?"

Hermione was exasperated. She threw her hands up in the air. "It's not like I can help it, Malfoy!"

"God, if only Potter and your weasel boyfriend weren't so useless…"

"Don't say that!"

Malfoy smirked. "I only speak the truth, Granger."

Hermione stood up and glared at him. "Don't push me, Malfoy."

"They're so incompetent that they probably tripped over their own shoelaces. Or maybe they hexed each other by accident! Maybe _that's _why they haven't come back yet. They've hexed each other senseless." Malfoy sat there, as if musing. His eyes then lit up. "Or maybe Weasley's met another girl! One that doesn't have dirty bl…"

"_Stupefy!_"

"_Protego!"_

Hermione's spell bounced off Malfoy's timely Shield Charm. He was now standing, wand ready. He looked her, amused. "Really, Granger?"

"_Expelli_-"

"_Reducto!"_

Hermione started toward Malfoy, and he slowly moved backwards. They were now standing in the living room. "Malfoy, you dirty rat!" Hermione yelled.

Malfoy smirked. "Why, thank you, Granger. I think rat is a bit of an upgrade from ferret, don't you?"

"_Silencio!"_

Malfoy ducked, Hermione's spell shooting right above his head. He looked at Hermione with a straight face. "You might want to work on your aim a bit."

Hermione grabbed a pillow from the sofa and threw it at him. It hit him squarely in the chest. Although it wasn't a very hard blow and the pillow was hardly heavy, the pillow caught Malfoy by off guard and with a look of surprise, he fell backwards.

"Looks like my aim is just fine," Hermione said smugly.

"You're going to regret that," he growled.

The two were soon engaged in an all-out, full-scale battle. Spells were thrown all over the place, and jets of green-, red-, and blue-coloured light shot around the room, bouncing off the walls. And, of course, there was the occasional loud crash.

Finally out of breath, Hermione and Malfoy stood on opposite sides of room, staring at each other, both too tired to move. Hermione stopped, looked around, and suddenly burst out laughing. Malfoy looked at her as if she had gone insane.

"Granger, you've gone mad."

"Just look at us, Malfoy," Hermione managed to gasp out. "This whole last week we've been fighting and cursing each other… Merlin, we're on the _same bloody side now_."

This bit of information had no effect on Malfoy. He merely crossed his arms and watched Hermione, as if waiting for her to continue explaining her sudden revelation.

"Well," Hermione said, flustered now, "usually when people are on the same side, they don't attack each other, right?"

Malfoy continued looking at Hermione blankly.

Hermione blinked. "What… don't you…? Oh forget it! Okay, look, Malfoy. We're supposed to be allies now. We shouldn't be cursing each other left and right, and we shouldn't be constantly aggravating each other deliberately."

"And why not?" Malfoy asked.

"Because that's the way it is," Hermione said through gritted teeth.

"Well, that's news to me," Malfoy replied airily.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Malfoy, it is obvious and clear that _neither_ of us likes this living arrangement. You don't like being stuck with me, and I detest being stuck with you. But the reality is that that's how it is. And that's how it's going to be for a long time. Now we can continue on for a long time, making the rest of the time hell or we can try to make it livable."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Now why would we do that?"

"Can't we come to _some_ sort of compromise?"

"Malfoys don't compromise."

"Yeah, well Malfoys don't turn themselves in either, but look what you did," Hermione snapped back.

These words had an immediate effect on Malfoy. She almost regretted saying them. His previously indifferent face suddenly turned dark and stormy. His body tensed, and his hands clenched ever so slightly. Hermione bit her lip and clutched her wand nervously.

"Fine."

"What?" Hermione's heart leapt in shock at his sudden response.

"_Fine_," Malfoy repeated with emphasis. "I won't curse you if I don't have to wash another bloody dish again."

"Only if you stop complaining and insulting Ron and Harry."

"I'll stop complaining, but I can't promise that bit about Potter and Weasley."

"Well, then don't purposefully aggravate me."

"I can't promise that either. You seem to get mad at the strangest things, Granger."

"You provoke me on purpose!"

"Now why on earth would I do that?" Malfoy asked sarcastically.

Hermione glared at Malfoy. He glared back.

Hermione never was good at staring contests. She gave up thirty seconds later. "Fine!" she yelled, frustrated. "Only if you…" Hermione looked around the room wildly. "… clean the floor!"

"_Clean the floor?_" Malfoy looked at Hermione incredulously. "Who the bloody hell do you think I am, Granger? Some lost princess from one of those Muggle fairy tales? What, I'm going to call my forest friends and we'll whistle and hum a merry tune whilst we dust the fireplace and sweep the floors?" Malfoy burst out laughing. "Jesus, Granger, you do have a sense of humor! I think I may have underestimated you! There's _no way_ I'm going to clean this mess."

This mess? Oh, Merlin. Hermione just realized… the fight. She had been so reckless! This cabin was a mess! It looked like something exploded. She was supposed to look after Malfoy and this cabin in Remus's absence. How could she be so irresponsible?

"Okay," Hermione said hurriedly. "Forget that. Just help me come up with a story to tell…"

"Hermione, I'm back! Hermione? What the hell happened here?!"

* * *

**AN: **Yeah, I know... short, short, short. But they're just snippets of Hermione's past and if they were any longer it'd just be plain odd! And it's bizarre enough for me to keep having to flipflop back and forth. But anyway, tell me what you think. It really does help. I might even update faster. (Yes. This is bribery.) Review!!! 


	10. Someone Else's Story

** AN:** Hi, everyone. I'm terribly sorry about the seriously late update. I'm in my aunt's house right now and her internet has been really skitzy so it's been so hard to have it just... stay working. I meant to update two days ago but I couldn't get it to work. The internet, that is. Plus, this chapter was insanely hard to write. And I've been busy. So all those factors combined meant a late update.

But thank you to everyone who last reviewed: **Avanell, ShatteredTruth, emaji, lostxatx7thxsea, cmtaylor731, CrystalizedHeart, iismenmeisi, BlueIrishEyes, **and **Story Lover. **It really does mean everything to me that you do update and even the smallest one makes me smile.

This chapter is not quite as "action" filled as the previous ones but I think it's definitely important. Well, why don't you just read it and decide for yourself?

* * *

**  
Stand and Watch It Burn**

**X. Someone Else's Story**

Ginny paced anxiously in front the fireplace. She checked her watch several times. It was getting late, and Hermione was still not there. Where could she be? Ginny twisted her hands anxiously. It really wasn't like Hermione to not be on time. Did she forget? Ginny shook her head. That was not possible. Hermione didn't forget anything. She wouldn't forget something like this… could she?

Maybe something happened to Hermione. Ginny's stomach lurched at this thought, a feeling she hadn't felt since the war ended. What if she was hurt? Kidnapped? Killed?! Ginny shook her head again, more violently this time, willing that thought out of her head. _No, no. I'm being silly! Hermione is late… that's all. Forty minutes late…_ Ginny frowned.

Ginny took a handful of Floo powder in the flowerpot by the fireplace and threw it into the flames. After they burst into a brilliant green, Ginny said loudly, "Ron and Hermione's!" and stuck her head in. What she found completely shocked her. Hermione and another girl were sitting calmly on the sofa, talking quietly.

"Hermione?!"

Hermione's head spun around to her fireplace. "Ginny?" she asked, sounding confused.

"Hermione, are you all right?"

"Of course," she replied. "Is… is something wrong? Nobody's hurt or in trouble, or anything?" Her voice was filled with concern.

Ginny laughed a bit nervously. "Oh… no, not if you're all right. Hermione, did you forget…"

"Oh!" Hermione's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, Ginny, I did forgot! I can't believe it! Ginny, I'm so sorry…"

"No, it's okay," Ginny said, trying to sound reassuring. But she herself was far from reassured. "I was just getting a bit worried since you're almost never late. I was starting to wonder where you were and…"

"Ginny, I'm so, so, so unbelievably sorry! I'll be right over in a minute."

"'Kay," Ginny replied. She pulled her head out of the fire, feeling dazed. Something was wrong. Ginny knew… but she couldn't place exactly what it was.

Ginny didn't have much time to linger on that thought because as promised, within a minute, the fire in the hearth turned green and a very flustered and embarrassed Hermione stumbled through.

"Ginny, I'm so sorry. I can't believe…"

"It's fine, Hermione," Ginny said, trying to smile a bit. "You've apologized twenty times now. It's really okay! I was just worried about you, that's all. But you're all right."

"Y… Yes," Hermione said, a little too uncertainly for Ginny's liking.

"Who was that girl you were with?" Ginny asked.

Hermione hesitated a bit before she answered. "Olivia," she said.

"Olivia?" Ginny searched her memory for any previous mention of an _Olivia_. Coming up empty, she gave the girl standing next to her a wary glance. "I've never heard you mention an _Olivia_ before. How come I've never heard of her?"

Hermione flushed a bit. "We… We just met," she said hurriedly.

"Where?"

"The library."

Ginny eyed Hermione suspiciously. "Where do I hide my stash of Sugar Quills at work?"

Hermione stared blankly at Ginny. "Your Sugar Q… what are you talking about, Ginny?"

"Just answer the question," Ginny responded sharply.

"In the second drawer on the left side of the desk."

"And the password?"

"Ginny, _what_…?"

"The password," Ginny repeated firmly.

Realisation dawned on Hermione's face. "You think _I'm_…" Hermione stopped abruptly. "Pickled toad."

Ginny let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding and her shoulders relaxed. "You are Hermione," she murmured.

"Of course I am." Hermione crossed her arms. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"It's just…" Ginny struggled to formulate all her jumbled thoughts into actual words. "You haven't quite been yourself lately," she finally managed to say. "You seem… distracted somehow. Like the other time we were planning and I was asking you about colours…" Ginny's eyes narrowed as she slowly recalled the conversation that had followed. Could it…? "Is something wrong, Hermione?" Ginny asked pointedly.

Hermione's eyes were downcast for a while before she turned her head up, met Ginny's gaze, and held it without wavering. "Nothing at all," she said. Hermione then smiled awkwardly. "Except that your wedding is only months away and we have a lot left to decide. So let's start!" Hermione walked out of the living room and into the kitchen, leaving Ginny behind.

Ginny stared at the empty space previously occupied by her best friend. Hermione wouldn't lie to her. No, she…

"Ginny? Are you coming?"

Following Hermione into the kitchen, Ginny forced herself to throw out any suspicions she had in her mind and instead focused her attention to lilies, baby's breath, and tulle. She was being silly.

x x x

_Long ago, in someone else's lifetime  
Someone with my name  
Who looked a lot like me  
Came to know a man and made a promise  
He only had to say  
And that's where she would be_

x x x

Hermione carefully placed her sleeping son into his crib. It had been a long day. It had been a terribly taxing day, both physically and emotionally. She'd had to keep an artificially cheery face around Ginny and Mrs. Weasley. She had to lie to them. She hated lying, especially to people she loved and cared about, but what choice did she have? Hermione began absentmindedly stroking Aiden's hair. She couldn't tell them. Not yet. Closing her eyes, she thought of everything she'd learned and seen that day.

So Draco Malfoy had turned to the light side. Draco Malfoy was part of the _Order_ for Merlin's sake! That alone was a lot to handle. It was just so utterly shocking and literally went against everything she held true. And that he had been under her watch… It bothered her that she didn't remember. Even now, Hermione could only remember vague outlines. If she tried hard enough, she could catch a shadow of a memory. Hermione closed her eyes and focused all her energy on trying to recall a memory, willing all things related to Draco Malfoy to come back to her… But nothing came. Hermione knew there was much more to remember. She could sense them - previously familiar sounds, smells, _feelings - _now distant and cold and out of reach. It bothered her that she didn't remember. But more importantly, it bothered her that no one had ever mentioned it to her. Why didn't they tell her? What were they keeping from her?

Aiden shifted in his sleep, opening his little mouth and yawning widely. Hermione smiled as she watched him sleep. He seemed so peaceful.

Hermione slumped into the rocking chair by Aiden's crib and sighed. Would she eventually remember everything? Would it slowly come back to her? If only there were a way for her to instantly have those memories back…

Hermione sat up straight. Of course. Her diary! She bolted out of Aiden's room, down the hallway, and into her bedroom. She pulled open the top drawer of her dresser and pointed her wand into a back corner where there was a secret compartment. "_Lituria_," she said urgently. A little door appeared. Hermione yanked it open and pulled out all the diaries she had in there.

When Hermione was younger, she would often spend hours sifting through old diaries. She liked going through what she'd written before. Some memories were more painful than others, but Hermione felt it was worth rereading and reliving. She didn't want to deny that it happened. After all, it was part of who she was. Rereading it reminded her of that. Looking back helped her learn from past mistakes too.

But lately - before with work and especially now with Aiden - Hermione had little free time to just sit around and read her diary. Hermione guessed she hadn't reread anything in at least three years.

_Three years_, Hermione thought. _Again, three years._ She flipped anxiously through her diaries, looking for the right year. Thinking hard, Hermione tried to remember what month Malfoy had shown up at the Burrow. She screwed her eyes shut and tried to visualize it.

"August," she said suddenly. Hermione looked down and saw that she had already opened the notebook to August 16th.

_August 16, 1997_

_Malfoy showed up today, looking worn out and tired, but still every bit the ferret he is. He says he's good now. I suspend belief, but Harry says he believes him. I don't know what Malfoy could possibly say to Harry to convince him that he's truly no longer loyal to Voldemort now, but I suppose if I can't trust Harry, I can't trust anyone. _

_Still, Malfoy's a slimy git, and I wouldn't trust him farther than I could throw him. I wish I knew what he told Harry… maybe then I'd believe it. Maybe. _

_Ron was really upset with Harry. The two of them had a fantastic row after the confrontation with Malfoy. Ron was furious that Harry wouldn't tell him. I think he has been really frustrated lately and Malfoy showing up was simply the last straw. I've tried talking to him about it, but whenever I do, Ron changes the subject completely. Sometimes I feel like I just don't_

_Harry just came in to talk to me. He wants me to watch Malfoy while he and Ron go look for the remaining Horcruxes. I told him yes. What the bloody hell was I thinking?!! Oh Merlin… but I'm the only one who can do it, Harry said. It's war. Sacrifices have to be made. I just hope I'm not sacrificing my sanity._

Hermione turned the page. Blank. The rest of the book was blank. "_Appario_," she said, pointing to the diary with her wand. Perhaps she had charmed it to be invisible. Nothing. Maybe she had started a new book. Hermione did a quick check of all the other diaries. The next chronological entry was May 20, 1998.

Hermione frowned. Did someone steal her diary? Did she not write for nine months?

Then it hit her. The cabin. It had to be in the cabin. Hermione looked at the clock. It was late. She couldn't go now. Tomorrow, first thing… she'd go to the cabin to search.

_Late_… Ron wasn't home yet. He was working late again, Hermione supposed. Perhaps that was for the best. After putting her diaries back into their hiding place, Hermione threw herself into bed. She was exhausted. Within minutes of placing her head on the pillow, Hermione fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

x x x

_Lately,  
Although those feelings run just as deep  
The promise she made  
Has grown impossible to keep  
And yet  
I wish it wasn't so  
Would he miss me if I go?_

x x x

When Hermione woke up, she was greeted by a brilliantly shining sun. She basked in its warmth for a few seconds. Suddenly, Hermione sat up straight in bed and looked around frantically, trying to check the time. Finding her watch, she read the time in horror. 8:09 AM.

"That can't be!" Hermione dashed out of bed and into Aiden's room. But his crib was empty. Before she had a moment to wonder what happened to her son, she heard a loud crash downstairs and someone cursing even more loudly. Cautiously, Hermione slipped down the stairs to investigate the noise. It seemed to come from the kitchen.

"Bloody… stupid… wanker…" Hermione knew that voice.

"RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY!" she yelled.

A very peeved Ron looked up at her. He was hovering over a big bowl, holding smashed eggshells in each hand. Pots and pans were strewn all over the countertop. Ron's hair was dusted with flour. Most importantly, Ron was wearing a hideous plaid apron. Apparently, the loud crash was Ron attempting to _cook_.

"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?" Hermione continued screaming. "CURSING IN FRONT OF YOUR SON?" Aiden, though left to fend for himself against Ron's stream of curse words, was sitting safely in his high chair at the kitchen table, playing with a stuffed owl that was charmed to fly just over his head.

Ron blushed and mumbled an apology. Hermione normally wouldn't have let him off so easily, but she was curious as to why he was there and not at work.

"What are you doing home?" Hermione asked.

Ron tried to suppress a smile. "Took a day off," he said. "I've been working long hours lately, you know?"

"Oh, of course," Hermione said. "It'll be nice for you to spend some time with Aiden, I suppose."

Ron chuckled. "Right," he said, winking at Hermione. "With _Aiden_."

Hermione frowned. She wasn't in the mood to play games. "Ron, you're acting strangely."

Ron stirred what looked like some sad attempt at pancake batter with a large wooden spoon. "Am I?" He grinned. "Good job, Hermione. You almost got me for a second?"

"Got you?" Hermione stared wide-eyed at him.

Ron laughed. "Come on, Hermione. I remember. Today."

"Today," Hermione repeated. "What day is it?"

"Funny," Ron said dryly. "I'll play along. June fifth, wife, dearest."

"June fifth," Hermione said slowly. _June fifth_. Yes, there was something important about this day…

"_Cake, if you'd like. Balloons too…"_

"_What the bloody hell would I want balloons for?"_

"_They're fun…"_

"_But why would I want them? Get me something better."_

"_You're so bloody difficult! What do you want then?"_

"_Use your imagination and surprise me…"_

"All right, Hermione, you can stop pretending," Ron said, still grinning. "I did _not_ forget our anniversary this year, and you can't nag to me that I did for another whole twelve months!" He threw up his arms triumphantly, obviously forgetting that he was still holding the wooden spoon in his right hand. Pancake batter from the spoon flew up and splatted onto the ceiling. "Oops…"

"Our anniversary?" Hermione whispered. Right. June fifth. But that wasn't what she was remembering…

"Bloody hell!" Ron yelled, staring at the offensive splotch of pancake batter on the ceiling. A small glop fell and landed in his eye. "Merlin!" he yelled as he rubbed his eye.

"Ron!" scolded Hermione. She pulled out her wand and pointed it at the ceiling and said, "_Scourgify._" Turning to face her husband, Hermione crossed her arms and said angrily, "You need to control your language in front of Aiden! I don't want his first words to be curse words."

Ron smiled cheekily at her. "Oh, you're just upset I remembered and you can't yell at me for it." He put down the spoon and gave Hermione a quick kiss. "We're going to have a great day together, Hermione," he said softly. "I know I haven't been around much lately, and you've been tired, working so hard, taking care of our son and our house. You're wonderful. I love you so much."

Hermione felt a lump in her throat. "Ron…" she started. Hermione sighed and smiled. "I love you too," she said softly. "But," Hermione continued, "I'd love you more if you'd please… just leave the cooking to me?"

"I thought I'd cook you breakfast," Ron mumbled, his ears turning red.

Hermione laughed. "Oh, Ron," she said tenderly. Hermione kissed him on the cheek and then cuffed him gently. "Why don't you go upstairs and get changed while I make real food?"

Ron scowled but went to the stairs. "I'll shower," he said.

Hermione nodded. She started putting unnecessary pots and pans away, shaking her head. Ron clearly had no idea about anything related to the kitchen or cooking. Why did Ron think he needed a ten-quart pot for making pancakes or sausage? Hermione magically swept up all the eggshell bits and flour and wiped it with a quick cleaning spell. With the area now spotless and clear of any debris, Hermione started cooking.

Hermione was preparing the sausage when she remembered. _The cabin. My diary_. She had to go to find it. But how? The rest of her day was now busy.

Putting down her spatula, Hermione dashed off to the fireplace. Soon, a girl's head appeared in the merrily green flames.

"What's the matter, Hermione?"

"Olivia, I need you to go to the cabin today and grab every single book there is."

"Every book?!"

"Just do it," Hermione said.

"All right," Olivia said, sounding skeptical. "I'll go later today."

"Thank you so much, Olivia. I promise I'll explain everything later when I have the time, but right now is definitely not the time."

"Don't worry about it. I understand. We'll discuss this later."

With a pop, Olivia's head disappeared.

Hermione slowly walked back to the kitchen. She sat down at the table, thinking. What was she doing? Did she really want to know what those pages of her diary contained? What if they held some terrible secret? Maybe some things were better left undiscovered.

No. She'd come too far now. She had to find out what happened three years ago…

"Hermione, the sausage is _burning_!"

"Oh, bloody hell!" Hermione jumped up and ran to the stove. Ron was staring at the smoking pan, gaping at their ruined breakfast. "Thanks for the help, Ronald," Hermione snapped.

"You cursed," Ron pointed out.

Hermione ignored him and instead inspected the sausage carefully. "Inedible," she said, scrunching up her nose in disgust. "It's all right, I'll cook some more."

"All right," Ron said. "And hurry up! Aiden and I are hungry, right, Ai?" Ron picked up Aiden and tossed him up. Aiden giggled wildly and gurgled.

"Don't toss him around like that, Ron."

"After breakfast, I have this great day planned out for us," Ron said excitedly. "You're going to love it, Hermione. We're going to go to the duck pond and have a picnic lunch. And tonight we'll have dinner at that fancy French restaurant in Diagon Alley you've been wanting to try."

"That sounds lovely," Hermione said a little uneasily. It truly did sound lovely, but Hermione felt absolutely torn. She wished she sounded as enthused as she forced herself to be. Ron, however, didn't seem to notice anything was wrong. He continued grinning happily at her. Ron then leaned in and kissed her.

"I love you, 'Mione."

"And I love you," Hermione replied automatically.

x x x

_In a way  
It's someone else's story  
I don't see myself  
As taking part at all  
Yesterday,  
A girl that I was fond of  
Finally could see  
The writing on the wall_

x x x

"Here you go," Olivia said, dumping a stack of books onto the floor. "Books, books, and more books. All from the cabin."

"Thanks," Hermione said. She spread them out examined them.

"So remind me… what we're looking for?"

"A diary. _My_ diary," Hermione responded.

Olivia gave the stack a scrutinizing look. "Well that rules out these," she said, pushing aside all the books with titles. "Unless of course, you charmed it to look like a boring book. Like… _Mystical Creatures of the Deep_ or something." Olivia pointed at a blue book with fancy gilt binding.

"Underwater magical creatures are absolutely fascinating!" Hermione said defensively. "But, no, I didn't. It should look like a plain old book. Titleless. Plain cover. With writing in it. I didn't usually bother charming the writing to be invisible."

"What colour would you usually go for?"

Hermione perused the books. "Oh, any colour really."

"Great," Olivia mumbled. "Narrows it down wonderfully. Don't know why you'd have so many bloody books in your cabin anyway?"

"Just look," Hermione said.

The two looked through the massive pile of books, throwing aside the ones that weren't what they were looking for.

"So how was yesterday?" Olivia asked.

Hermione tensed. "Yesterday?" she repeated.

"With your husband," Olivia replied.

"It was… a day," Hermione said. "He tried to cook breakfast for me."

Olivia laughed. "And how did that go?"

"Disastrously," Hermione said, shaking her head. "I cleaned up after him and then made a real breakfast."

"Well, at least he tried. I think that's rather sweet."

"I suppose."

Neither said anything for a while. Hermione turned over a few books. Her mind felt rather heavy at the moment, and idle chatter wasn't something she needed. But all the same, she was bursting to talk. There was so much to say. But there was nothing to say because she didn't know what it was she was trying to say. And the more she thought about it the more confused she became.

"What do you think it is?"

The question pulled Hermione out of her rhetorical string of questions. "What do I think what is?"

Olivia was studying the book she was holding. "That they're not telling you."

"I don't know," Hermione replied. "Something. Something big."

Olivia looked up at Hermione. "What was it like? Watching Malfoy? Do you remember?"

"A little…"

"Was it terrible?"

Hermione tilted her head and bit her lip. "It was… No," she said finally. "It wasn't. I think… I think eventually he and I got along."

"Got along?" Olivia raised an eyebrow. "You got along with Malfoy? Is that possible? From what you've told me, you two hated each other all the time you were at Hogwarts. He absolutely loathed you, and you weren't exactly his biggest fan either."

"Something happened," Hermione said. She squinted her eyes as if trying to see something far off in the distance. "I don't remember what. But something happened." She kept trying to focus. The outlines. Again, Hermione could see the outlines. Slowly, the picture was getting sharper. _Stone walls. A lake. White marble…_

"It must have been something huge," Olivia mused.

"Yes," Hermione whispered, her eyes widening as the memory flooded back. "Yes it was."

x x x

_Sadly,  
She realized she'd left him behind  
And sadder than that  
She knew he wouldn't even mind  
And though  
There's nothing left to say  
Would he listen if I stay?_

x x x

Draco Malfoy had never really been a fan of birthdays. Oh, sure, he enjoyed the extravagant parties and gifts, but other than that they always seemed rather empty to him. What was a birthday anyway? He never understood why people celebrated birthdays. It's not as if a person did anything on his or her birthday other than be born. And it was their mothers that did all the work, not them. Draco's birthdays were always filled with insincere people and hollow best wishes. His parents had always insisted on throwing him a huge party. They took care to invite everyone who was anyone and took notes on who didn't come. There would be a huge show of Draco opening some obscenely expensive gift in front of all the guests. Hordes of people Draco didn't recognize would come to him, wish him a happy birthday, and give him expensive gifts he had no use fore.

_Happy Birthday_. What did that mean anyway?

He'd almost forgotten that yesterday was his birthday. But his mother had to ruin it. She had come in that morning, smiling – a very, very foreign expression for her to have on her face.

Well, Draco hadn't exactly forgotten. He had tried to forget. Draco didn't exactly want to be reminded about how empty that day was.

Draco almost wished he'd accepted Davids's offer. Dinner with the kind old man probably would have been nice. At the very least, he wouldn't have had to deal with his mother saying that June fifth was the most significant, important day of her life and how Draco was the best thing that ever happened to her.

It only reminded him of what an utter failure he was.

Draco yanked viciously at some weeds that had dared to attack his peonies. The garden now was his only haven. And he was weeding the flower beds.

Shaking the dirt from his gloves, Draco straightened up and examined his handiwork. _Not a weed in sight_, he thought proudly. Having finished his work, Draco took off the heavy gloves and started putting the tools away. Draco started to leave and had passed the gate when he abruptly stopped. He cast a glance over his shoulder and gave it one last look before leaving. His eyes wandered across his garden and finally landed on the green thorny bush at the centre of it. Still flowerless. _Maybe I should chop the bloody useless thing down_, he thought viciously. But no. He knew he didn't have the heart. Draco turned and walked away.

If Draco had looked a little closer, he might have caught sight of a tiny bud, hidden among the leaves.

* * *

**AN: **I struggled a lot with this chapter, mainly trying to keep everyone in character. Ron was the easiest because he's the most oblivious. But Ginny can notice the change in Hermione and she's not sure how to deal with it. And how would Hermione deal with lying to her best friend, and later to her husband? So perhaps you can see why I struggled so much with this chapter. 

The next update should be soon! But I could be coaxed to update even sooner if you review... [evil laughter


	11. When She Learned

**AN: **Told you the next update would be soon. This was written a LONG time ago, though it's been severely edited since its inception.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed on the last chapter! Thank you to **ShatteredTruth, cmtaylor531, Moonlight, Hermione09Weasley, lostxatx7thxsea:), ravenclaw123, **and** Linita. **Your lovely reviews bring a smile to my face and a song to my heart. Or something like that. I'm really glad you guys still find my story intriguing, despite the lack of action. I just hope I don't fall short of your expectations!

As to those of you who wanted to know what happened three years ago... well... here you are.

* * *

**Stand and Watch It Burn**

**XI. When She Learned**

**Three years ago...**_  
_

Hermione hadn't really wanted to come, but Malfoy had been so bloody insistent, she had reluctantly relented. She had tried to avoid this place at all costs, and now, it seemed almost ironic that it would be _Malfoy_ of all people who brought her back here. She'd always imagined it would be Harry, leading her and the Order of the Phoenix here in a victorious march. Or perhaps because of an invitation from Professor McGonagall, welcoming them to its reopening. (Hogwarts was currently closed for an indefinite period of time. The war was reaching its height and few parents wanted to have their children far away from home.) Of all the scenarios she had come up with, this hadn't even crossed her mind.

Being on Hogwarts grounds was strange, especially since now there were no students running around. _School should have started by now,_ Hermione thought bitterly. The buildings were empty and oddly hollow without the shouts of excited students anticipating the new term. There was a feeling of desertion. Briefly, Hermione wondered if even the ghosts of Hogwarts were gone. Hermione felt a chill run up her spine, and she wasn't sure if it was from the brisk September weather or this odd feeling she got from being here again.

Malfoy had been bothering her for almost a week now to go to Hogwarts. She wasn't sure why he had wanted so desperately to come, and when she had asked, he had avoided answering her directly. He just kept saying he needed to go to Hogwarts. At times, it almost sounded like he was begging her… but Malfoy would never allow himself to sink to that, Hermione mused.

Hermione watched Malfoy carefully the moment they reached Hogwarts. There was a far off quality in his eyes, as if he were looking just beyond the grounds, the Whomping Willow, and the castle. He stood there, as if in a trance for a few minutes, doing nothing but standing and staring. Hermione shifted her weight from foot to foot. She didn't want to be here. It brought back too many memories that were still fresh and raw.

Then, Malfoy began to move, walking tentatively at first, but with each stride, he became more sure, every step filled with purpose. His sudden movement took Hermione by surprise, and she rushed to follow him.

"Where are you going?" Hermione called out. Malfoy didn't even look back.

Hermione grunted in frustration. "Malfoy!"

But he kept walking. His speed was increasing, and now Hermione was struggling to keep up. Now Hermione realized where Malfoy was headed – the Great Lake.

_Perhaps he misses his mate, the Giant Squid_, Hermione thought, slowing down and laughing to herself. But when he turned a corner and disappeared behind a hedge, a more sobering realisation hit her.

Dumbledore's tomb.

When Hermione crossed the hedges that surrounded the Great Lake, she noticed Malfoy had stopped before the great white marble fixture. Slowly, he approached it, walking with growing uncertainty. When he reached the tomb, Malfoy reached a hand out and gently stroked the white marble.

So this is what he had been so desperate to see. Hermione felt a faint sickness in her stomach. Of course. Why else would he come here but to see the results of his victorious mission? He was probably admiring the wonderful job he did – his crowning moment as a Death Eater. Hermione was surprised he hadn't gloated all the way here. She felt mildly disgusted with herself for not realizing this right away. And she felt disgust again at him for what he had done.

"Malfoy," Hermione said through clenched teeth, trying to contain her anger, "if you're quite finished reveling in your own glory, I'd like to go now."

Malfoy fell to his knees. One of his arms was on the tomb, and his head rested against this arm.

"What the hell are you doing Malfoy?" Hermione was furious now. "Are you trying to make a mockery of us all? Don't you think you've done enough damage? Now get the fuck up before I blow your bloody brains out!"

Malfoy did not move, remaining in his kneeling position. Completely enraged, Hermione ran up from behind him and yanked his shoulder so he was facing her. What she saw shocked her completely.

A single tear was falling down Malfoy's face.

"Malfoy?" Hermione gasped. "What…? Are you okay?"

"Leave me alone, Granger." He jerked his shoulder from her hand and turned around so she couldn't see his face.

Hermione stepped back, unsure of what to do. Should she… console him with kind words? Walk away? No, no that was out of the question. She had to keep watch over him and make sure he didn't run off. Or get killed. Perhaps a hug? Did Malfoy even know what a hug was? Hesitantly, Hermione approached him again. "Malfoy?" she asked softly.

"I said, _sod off,_ Granger."

Ignoring him, Hermione knelt down beside to him. Timidly, she placed her hand on his back. This time, Malfoy didn't shake her off, but he didn't seem to respond either.

"Malfoy?" Hermione repeated.

"Look what I did," Malfoy said sharply. He lifted his head and stared into the distance. His face was dry and his eyes empty. "Just look. I did this, Granger. All this is because I tried to please a man who never even cared for me."

"Vol… You-Know-Who?" Hermione asked quietly.

Malfoy shook his head, emitting a soft mocking laugh. "No, no, Granger. My _father,_" he spat out with vehemence. "My caring, _loving_ father. The man who mocked and insulted me and told me I was no better than a Mudblood… insulted me for coming in second to _you_." He glared at Hermione, but his glare lacked the venom it had had before.

Hermione bit her lip. She had always suspected Lucius hadn't been exactly a model father, but she had never really stopped to consider what effects it might have had on his son. "I…" What could she possibly say in this circumstance? "I'm… not actually that smart. I… just… erm… I study a lot." She finished lamely.

Malfoy laughed again, more loudly this time. "Don't be daft, Granger. You're brilliant and you know it."

In spite of everything at that moment – all the melodrama and pent up emotion – Hermione flushed slightly at Malfoy's praise… however insultingly he had said it.

But what could she possibly tell Malfoy to comfort him? She couldn't possibly say that everything was going to be okay. He was responsible for the death of Dumbledore for Merlin's sake! Well, partially responsible. _Mostly_ responsible. She could lie to him, but he would see right through that. Perhaps he didn't even want to be comforted. But Hermione felt a desperate need to say something… _anything_ to try to make him feel better. Malfoy looked so miserable.

"You did what you thought you had to do," Hermione said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You thought you were doing the right thing."

"No," Malfoy said. He shook his head. "No," he repeated with conviction. "I did the easy thing. I took the easy way out. And at the last minute… I couldn't even do it. I couldn't kill him. Dumbledore saw through me. He _knew_, that bloody bastard. He knew I couldn't go through with it. He said he could protect me. Lies, all fucking lies!" Malfoy suddenly stood up, throwing Hermione off balance. She fell backwards, landing on her back. "Look at him," Malfoy said furiously, pointing at the marble tomb. "How could he protect me now?"

Hermione said nothing. She had heard Harry's account of what had happened in the tower, but he had never mentioned in detail what Dumbledore had said to Malfoy. Never had she dreamed she would hear Malfoy's side of the story.

Malfoy was speaking again. "Killed." He stared at the tomb. "Gone." His shoulders slumped and he dropped his head into his hands. "What have I done, Hermione?"

The sound of her first name stunned her. _Did he just…_ Hermione stared. He did. He _called me 'Hermione'_. Not Mudblood. Not Granger. _Hermione_. The mere thought of that sent another chill up her spine. Maybe hell _had_ frozen over.

Malfoy sat down, leaning against the tomb. He looked straight at Hermione and whispered, "What have I done?"

Hermione leaned over and wrapped her arms around him. This time, Malfoy willingly moved closer to her and rested his head on her shoulder. "It's all right, Mal-_Draco_," she said gently. "It's going to be okay."

x x x

Hermione bustled about the kitchen, gathering ingredients. _Flour, eggs, cinnamon, butter… _Pouring the dry ingredients together in a big bowl, she started mixing and combining and mashing. She loved baking. She especially liked eating her baked goods. But more importantly, Hermione had a strong belief that food had inexplicable healing properties. And Malfoy right now… Her eyes wandered over to where he sat in front of the fire. The living room was dark, illuminated only by the fire that she had conjured up earlier. Malfoy's face was covered in shadow.

Hermione sighed. She wished she could talk to him more, but she didn't want to pry. Moreover, even if he did talk to her, she wouldn't know what to say. So she was baking.

Finishing the batter, Hermione divided it into the muffin tin and popped the muffin tin into the oven. Hermione was straightening up when she heard a voice behind her. "What the hell are you doing?"

Hermione jumped a bit. "Wha…?" She peered over her shoulder and saw Malfoy, his eyes going back and forth between the oven and her.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm… baking," she stammered.

Malfoy stared at her. "Baking," he repeated. "_Baking_. May I state the obvious and point out that you are baking the _Muggle_ way?"

Hermione crossed her arms. "What's wrong with that?"

"You're a _witch_. You have a _wand._"

"I prefer doing this the Muggle way," Hermione replied, dusting some flour from her sleeves. "It's nice sometimes."

Malfoy gave her a puzzled look and walked back to the sofa. Hermione sighed. She shrugged and started to prepare some tea.

A few minutes later, the timer Hermione had set dinged, and Hermione took out the tin from the oven. She smiled as she looked at it. _Perfect_, she thought. Carefully, she took the muffins out and set them on a plate. Hermione put the muffins and the tea onto a tray and carried it over to where Malfoy was sitting. An aroma of cinnamon and bananas wafted all around.

As she approached, Malfoy turned slightly and looked at the tray. His gaze went upwards to Hermione's eyes. Hermione shifted uneasily. "Care for some tea?" she asked.

"What the bloody hell is that?"

"Banana muffins with a crumb topping," she said. "Erm… would you like one?" Hermione practically shoved the tray into Malfoy's face. He flinched backwards and gave her a disgusted look.

"Why would I eat _that_?" he asked.

"They're not poisoned you know," Hermione said. She set the tray down and sat down next to him. Hermione picked up a muffin and a cup of tea and took a healthy bite from the muffin. "Mmm," she said. "'S good."

"Of course you'd say so," Malfoy drawled. "You made them." He glanced again at the muffins sitting innocently on the plate. After a few seconds of consideration, he reached over and picked up a muffin. Malfoy examined the specimen for a bit and then took a careful bite.

Hermione watched him as he chewed. "Well?" she asked.

Malfoy chewed a bit more and then swallowed. "It's all right," he said finally.

"All right?!" Hermione was annoyed. "My banana muffins are better than all right!"

"If you insist," Malfoy said, taking another, larger bite. He looked at Hermione, who seemed rather insulted, and chuckled. "All right, Granger. You make good banana muffins."

"That's all I'm saying," Hermione said.

The two sat quietly for a while, eating the muffins and drinking their tea. Hermione kept shooting Malfoy sidelong glances. She didn't want him to think she was watching him, but Hermione wanted to know what he was thinking right now. Hermione wanted to know how he was doing after his rather emotional afternoon. She took a deep breath. "So…" Hermione said softly.

"What?" Malfoy took another muffin.

"About today…" Hermione started before Malfoy cut her off.

"What about it?" He sounded slightly defensive.

"Nothing," Hermione answered. "I just… wanted to know if you wanted to talk about it."

Malfoy gave her a long, hard look that Hermione couldn't read. Was he upset? Was he angry? Did she cross the line?

"No, I'm fine," he finally said. There was a long pause. "But… thank you," he added softly.

Hermione stared. _Malfoy just thanked me_, she thought incredulously.

Malfoy turned his gaze to the fire and bit into the muffin he was holding. "Just promise me one thing, Granger."

"What?"

"Never tell Potter and Weasel you saw me crying. _Never_."

* * *

**AN: **I knew Hermione and Draco would need some sort of a "moment" where they both could see past their previous conceptions of each other, and I wondered for a while what it should be. Hermione needed to see a more human side of Draco - a more vulnerable side - and Draco needed to realise that Hermione would be open-minded enough to accept him despite the past. I think the two of them living together would soften their views on each other but they needed the big moment. Hence, this chapter. They're not best buddies yet, but they're beginning to open up to each other. 

So? Thoughts? Reviews? Yes! Reviews. :D


	12. When He Cared

**AN: **This was probably the most fun chapter to write. The present is so dreary, what with Hermione being confused and Draco being depressed. I really enjoy writing them three years ago. Though they were in war, at least they don't carry the burdens they do three years later...

Thanks to reviewers **cmtaylor531, ShatteredTruth, lostxatx7thxsea, imanawesomeperson, **and** tankbbg**. This one's for you.**  
**

* * *

**Stand and Watch It Burn**

**XII. When He Cared**

**Three years ago... **

Hermione stormed into the cabin, ripping off her hat, scarf, and mittens and flinging then on the ground. She tore off her jacket and hung it on a hook by the door. Mumbling to herself, she went into the living room and was surprised to find Malfoy alone.

The living room was bright and cheery, lit by a roaring fire. Malfoy, dressed in a rather casual, sleek, black sweater, was lounging on the cushy sofa in front of the fire, perusing a novel. Hermione spun her head around, searching for something.

"Where's Tonks?"

"She left a few minutes ago," he said distractedly. Malfoy's eyes didn't leave the book in front of him as he answered. "She said you would be here soon and figured I could be trusted to be alone for a few minutes. She had somewhere important to go."

"But why…?" Hermione shook her head. Malfoy gave her an expectant look, waiting for her to continue. "Never mind," she muttered. What did she care anyway? It wasn't like it really mattered. She had more important things to worry about than Malfoy. Like Ron. _Bloody Ron…_

Hermione noticed Malfoy looking up at her with a strange, unreadable expression on his face. He was opening his mouth to say something. _Something nasty,_ Hermione presumed. It was the last thing she needed at that moment. "Shut it, Malfoy," she snapped. "I don't want to hear it."

Malfoy shut his mouth briefly before opening it again. "What, Granger?" he asked.

"I don't _want to hear it_," she repeated with emphasis.

His face went blank, but Malfoy continued gazing at her. Hermione let out a breath of exasperation and continued to move around the cabin, trying to tidy up a bit, despite the fact the cabin was probably the cleanest it had ever been during their stay. As she moved around, she could feel his eyes boring holes into the back of her head. Hermione tried to ignore it, but finally she couldn't stand the feeling of being watched anymore. She swirled around viciously on him. "What is it, Malfoy?"

"I thought you didn't want to hear it," he said coolly.

"Just say it," she said through gritted teeth.

"Why are you still with him?" he bluntly asked.

Hermione did a double take. "Wh-_What_?" she sputtered. Hermione gaped at him. How could he ask that? "That… that is absolutely _none_ of your business, Malfoy!"

Malfoy's face hardened slightly before returning to neutral. Seemingly unfazed, he shrugged and said, "All right." Without another word, he went back to reading his book.

His lack of response bothered Hermione. She kept waiting for him to laugh at her, mock her, or insult her, but he didn't do that. Malfoy sat there, reading, not moving except for turning a page occasionally.

"What do you mean?"

Malfoy didn't even look up from his book. "I thought it was none of my business," he said, his voice void of any emotion. Hermione gave him a nasty glare. "Fine," he said indifferently. "You deserve better."

"Better?" Hermione was laughing now. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "_Better_? What the hell do you mean by that?"

"Maybe you think I'm _incapable _of feeling, but I'm not mentally stunted like Weasley," Malfoy drawled as he rolled his eyes. "You're supposed to be his girlfriend for Merlin's sake – "

"We're not…"

"Don't bother lying to me, Granger. You are." Malfoy closed his book and set it down on the sofa. "But you shouldn't be. Even you deserve better. Every time you come back after a date…" He paused, pondering thoughtfully. "Are they even real _dates_? Can he afford them?" Before Hermione could interject, Malfoy continued speaking. "Well, what I'm trying to say is that every time you come back you're on the verge of tears or you're upset or you're snappy and shouting at me. Case in point: today."

"Not all the time," Hermione protested.

Malfoy snorted. "Close enough."

"And why do you even care? Shouldn't you be _happy_ that I'm upset?"

"Merlin, Granger. Why would I be happy if you come home all pissy and start taking it out on me? And like I said… even you deserve better."

"It's stressful for him," she said. "In case you haven't noticed, he and Harry have had a lot to do lately – "

"Right," Malfoy said, standing up. "That's still no excuse to treat you like rubbish." He walked off to the kitchen and removed some mugs from the cabinet. "Something to drink?" he asked.

"He's tired. And under a lot of pressure."

Malfoy was busy preparing something, heating it in a bowl with his wand and stirring it with a spoon. He nodded as she talked, and Hermione took this to mean he was listening.

"So we argue sometimes," Hermione continued, following him into the kitchen. "People who love each other argue. It's because they're actually _expressing_ how they feel. That's probably a difficult concept for you to grasp, so I can see how you wouldn't understand. Ron and I care about each other. So sometimes we argue. It doesn't mean anything."

"Where do you keep the marshmallows?"

Hermione stared at him. "The _what_?"

Malfoy let out an exasperated sigh. "_Marshmallows_, Granger. You know… puffs of sugar and corn syrup, usually white in colour and rather chewy in texture…"

"Oh, right," Hermione said, perplexed. "They're in the lower right drawer."

"Thank you," Malfoy said graciously, heading to the lower right drawer.

Hermione watched him, bewildered. Shaking her head, she kept going on with her speech. "What I'm _trying_ to say is that you have to work on relationships. They aren't always easy." Hermione thought of all the books she'd read, all riddled with occasionally tragic but _always_ difficult love stories. _Pride and Prejudice, _in particular, came to mind. As she thought on Elizabeth Bennett and the trials of the Bennett sisters, it dawned on her that Malfoy hadn't said anything to her other than asking her where the marshmallows were. He was standing at the counter still, doing who knew what. Narrowing her eyes, she asked, "Are you ignoring me, Malfoy?"

"Not at all," Malfoy said lightly. He had opened the bag and was now carefully placing the marshmallows into the mugs. "Please, go on. The shortcomings of Weasel never fail to amuse me."

She watched him, wondering what to say next. "He _loves_ me," Hermione said finally. "And I…" Hermione stopped. She loved him… right? Of course she did. Ron had been her best friend for almost seven years now. She'd had a crush on him since their third year. And now – after saving Sirius, after the disastrous Yule Ball, after Viktor, after Umbridge, after Lavender, after McLaggen, after Ron being poisoned, after Dumbledore's death… after _everything_ – they were finally together. Hermione had finally got what she wanted. She had to love him. So why couldn't she bring herself to say the words?

"Here," Malfoy said, setting a blue mug in front of her. "Yours."

Hermione looked at it stupidly. "What?"

"_Hot chocolate_," Malfoy said with emphasis. "It's a beverage. You drink it. There." He pointed at the mug he had placed right by her hands, resting on the counter. "This one is yours."

"Oh," she said, feeling rather foolish. Hermione examined her mug. "Malfoy, it's teeming with marshmallows. There is a _mountain _of_ fluffy, white _marshmallows sitting in my mug."

"And thus, perfect," he explained, taking a sip from his mug. "And it also appears that you need it." Hermione just continued staring at it. "I haven't poisoned it you know," he said pointedly.

"Oh, I know that," she said, flustered. "It's just…"

"So you don't love him," Malfoy said. "It's not a crime."

"What the bloody hell are you talking about Malfoy?" She was shouting. Why was she shouting? Why was she so upset?

"You don't love him," he repeated. "And thank Merlin for that." Malfoy gave Hermione an unreadable look. "You deserve better, Hermione."

"I… Stop saying that!" Hermione was livid. "I don't… Ron is… He's… Ron is ni… Ron is wonderful!"

"Wonderful at making you upset," Malfoy pointed out.

"He's more of a man than you'll ever be, Malfoy," Hermione practically snarled.

"If he were such a _man_ he'd know how to treat you…"

"As if you'd know or do any better! You've never had a real relationship with any human being!" Hermione was screaming at the top of her lungs. "You're emotionally unavailable and you _are _incapable of feeling anything. So don't you tell me about how Ron's wrong, you stupid prat, because you wouldn't be any better than him, you traitor, you backstabber, you _heartless bastard_!"

Malfoy's eyes burned with anger. "We're done," he said with a deadly quiet voice. "This conversation is over."

"Fine," Hermione said, crossing her arms, defiant. "Not that it was much of a conversation anyway."

Malfoy swept past her and went back to the couch. He snatched up the book and continued reading, flipping the pages loudly. Although his eyes betrayed no emotion, Malfoy's forehead was slightly furrowed. Hermione knew he was still mad.

_What did I do? _Hermione felt terrible now. She'd crossed the line. She had yelled at Malfoy and said terrible things she didn't even really mean when all he had done was try to make her feel better. He'd made her _hot chocolate_ for Merlin's sake. With marshmallows. All he had said was that she deserved better. _Why does that upset me so much_? Hermione fidgeted with the hem of the sweater. _Maybe it's because deep down inside, you agree_, a nasty voice in the back of her head said. Hermione tried to shake off that thought. She turned her attention back to Malfoy.

Why did she say such horrible things about him? Hermione knew it wasn't true. She'd seen that. But Hermione wanted to believe what she'd told him… It was easier than accepting that maybe she didn't have Malfoy figured out like she'd thought.

"Malfoy," she started. Hermione hesitated, waiting for a reaction.

He continued reading, turning the pages even more loudly.

Hermione looked at the counter and noticed Malfoy had left his mug of hot chocolate there. She took the mug and walked over to the sofa where he was sitting. "Here," she said. "It's getting cold."

Malfoy held up the book to block out her face.

Hermione sighed. "Look, Malfoy… Today's been a long day, and I was upset, and I shouldn't have yelled at you and said all those things."

He flipped another page.

"Malfoy, would you stop being so childish?!"

"What do you want, Granger?" He shut his book and threw it down on the couch. "To yell at me some more? Tell me I don't have any feelings? That I'm a cold-hearted, dirty Death Eater who kills babies for fun?"

"If you had been _listening_ you would know I was trying to apologise!"

"I have been listening, and in case you forgot, you said… what was it? Oh yes. That I'm 'emotionally unavailable'. So, sorry, Granger. If you're trying to apologise, I'm afraid I'm too _emotionally unavailable_ to understand."

"I'm _sorry_, all right?" Hermione's face was red with frustration and embarrassment. "I didn't mean to say those things. I'm... sorry. Really. I'm really sorry."

Slowly, the angry look on Malfoy's face faded. After a few seconds of silence, he took the mug from Hermione, took a sip, and put it on the table by the sofa. Picking up his book, he resumed reading.

Hermione sat down next to him. "What are you reading?"

"_Mayor of Casterbridge_."

"Thomas Hardy," she said automatically. Hermione shot him a sidelong glance. "That's a Muggle book. It's one of my favourites, actually."

Malfoy nodded. "Yeah, I took it from your shelf."

Hermione remembered the fit Malfoy had thrown one day during the first week here. He told her he was bored, and she had rather innocently suggested he read one of her novels. She never knew anyone could react so violently to the _mere suggestion_ of reading what she considered classics. "I thought you didn't read Muggle books."

"I don't."

"Well, you're…"

"I had nothing to do, all right? That pink-haired freak was driving me insane, and I needed something to do. I've read all of my books ten thousand times. So I just picked up one of your bloody novels and started reading."

"You're still reading, in case you haven't noticed."

He shrugged. "I liked it."

"Oh." Hermione didn't know what else to say.

Malfoy continued reading for a bit before finally closing the book. "But I don't understand. It seems terribly unfair to me that Henchard should have to suffer so much for one little mistake he made in the past…"

"He sold his wife and daughter," Hermione said. "That's not exactly a little mistake."

"He was drunk," Malfoy said. "He did not make that decision with a clear mind. And he regretted it. Swore he'd be sober for years."

"Well his wife forgave him. Sort of," Hermione added.

"She's bloody _using_ him," Malfoy says, "because now that her husband has died she needs someone else to take care of her and her daughter. Which is supposedly his." Malfoy looked questioningly at Hermione. "Is she?"

Hermione smiled. "Just keep reading. You wouldn't want me to spoil it for you, would you?"

She wasn't sure, but Hermione could have sworn that Malfoy returned her smile with an ever so slight one of his own. "I suppose not," he said.

* * *

**AN:** Just a bit of fun, but also a look at the deteriorating relationship between Hermione and Ron and the growing one between Hermione and Draco. They never struck me as a pair that would simply grow to love one another through the bonds of friendship like Hermione and Ron would. I know the whole Draco-liking-Muggle-books! thing is kinda cliche, but rest assured that I didn't arbitrarily choose that book.

I would like to remind everyone at this point (in case it were not already obvious) these memories are only highlights of what happened. There's a lot more to their history than what I might have chosen to write.

Reviews would be greatly appreciated. :D


	13. Dividing Day

**AN: **Sigh! Deathly Hallows finally comes out tomorrow! Silly me, didn't preorder one, but it's all right. I'm sure I'll get my hands on one soon enough. Anyway, this is probably time I'll update before I read book 7. (Though who knows? Getting it might take longer than expected.) And this may be the last time it won't be AU!! Who else is slightly scared JK will just off Malfoy? Sigh, only time shall tell.

Thank you to my wonderful reviewers **cmtaylor531, confusednikki24-7, BlueIrishEyes, Mela, ShatteredTruth, tankbbg, missbookwormmalfoy, Hermione09Weasley, **and **lostxatx7thxsea.** BIE, I did wonder where you went off to, but I figured there was a good reason. I had faith. :P And yes, lost, I've got Malfoy hidden in my linen closet and I constantly annoy him with "What if?" questions. He's not very happy. I'd be happy to lend him out if you'd like to borrow.

With that, I give you this chapter. Enjoy! It's a dandy.**  
**

* * *

**  
Stand and Watch It Burn**

**XIII. Dividing Day**

Never before had Hermione realised what a burden knowledge could be. She had always been a proponent of learning and studying and knowing everything. She wasn't called a know-it-all for nothing. But right now, Hermione wished there were some things she didn't. The three weeks after her anniversary were hellish.

The only time Hermione could feel any sort of relief was when Ron was away and she was home alone with Aiden. A few times she went to Olivia's place. Around Olivia, she didn't have to pretend to not know the secrets she did. Olivia, with her love of literature and knowledge of Muggle books (she _was_ working in the library, after all) also proved to be an interesting conversationalist… and a satisfactory distraction. If Hermione needed an escape from her constant thinking, she would simply go over to Olivia's for book discussions and tea.

But it was only a temporary solution. Soon afterward, Hermione would remember again, and she would start thinking again.

Hermione could not remember past befriending Malfoy, but it was more than enough to bother, annoy, and stress her every waking minute. Hermione had run through the few memories she had over and over again in her head, trying to analyze every little last detail and straining to remember more… anything at all. But no matter how hard she tried, no matter how hard she focused, no matter how hard she thought about it, Hermione simply could not recall anything more.

One morning, Hermione was cleaning the kitchen after breakfast. Ron had just left for work. Hermione had cleared the dishes off the table when she noticed that Ron had left a hefty stack of documents labeled "URGENT" in bright, red, flashing letters. Hermione rolled her eyes._ So typical of Ron to leave behind important papers, _she thought. She collected them and placed them in a neat pile on the counter so they wouldn't get dirty from the food. "I guess we'll be making a stop at the Ministry today, Aiden. How's that sound?"

"Mini!" Aiden chirped, banging his hands against the table on the highchair.

Hermione smiled. Aiden wasn't _quite_ talking yet, but he made certain noises that they could manage to interpret. "Yes, I'm glad you agree."

After Hermione had washed all the dishes, she went upstairs and got Aiden's diaper bag. Hermione figured since she was going to the Ministry anyway, she might as well make a trip out of it. She though Arthur might like a surprise visit from his little grandson at work. Having retrieved the bag, Hermione tucked the papers neatly into one of the pockets and slung the bag over her shoulder. Hermione picked up Aiden and Flooed over to the Ministry.

Hermione hadn't been to the Ministry in a while. _Almost a year now_, Hermione thought. A year ago, Hermione had left her job in International Magical Cooperation for maternity leave… and she'd never returned. After Aiden was born, she and Ron agreed that it'd be better for her to stay home and take care of Aiden. Well, Ron thought so, anyway. Walking down the halls, Hermione felt rather wistful. She wished she was there again, working.

She eventually found her way to the Auror's Office. Tonks spotted her immediately.

"Hermione!"

"Tonks!" Hermione smiled at the bubble-gum pink haired girl. "How are you? I haven't seen you in a while."

"Good," Tonks said. She smiled abashedly. "Great, actually. I just found out…"

"You just found out…" Hermione prompted.

"I'm pregnant," Tonks whispered, grinning broadly.

Hermione's mouth dropped. "Tonks that's… that's great! Congratulations!" Hermione gave her a calculating look. "What does _Remus_ think?"

"Oh, Remus." Tonks sighed. "Well, at first, he was shocked as bloody hell, but now I think it's safe to say… and please pardon the pun… he's over the moon."

Hermione groaned. "That was bad," she said. "But I'll forgive you that since you're in a delicate condition."

Tonks rolled her eyes and then leaned over and started playing with Aiden's hands. "How does that sound, Ai? Soon you'll have a little playmate." Aiden squealed with delight. Tonks grinned. "Yeah, I think so too!"

"So…" Hermione said, "has dear old Lupin said anything about getting married, perhaps?"

Hermione didn't think Tonks's grin could get any wider but she was wrong. Tonks's mouth was now literally stretched across her face. "We'll have a small ceremony after Harry's wedding," she said. "In two months. We're announcing later this week at dinner."

"I'm so happy for you, Tonks," Hermione said.

Tonks grined. "Yeah," she said. "Well, I mustn't delay you any longer. Why did you come, Hermione?"

"Ron left some papers that looked rather important at home, so I thought I'd bring them here."

"Ooh, Ron actually just left to do some field work. Why don't you leave them with Harry? I'm sure he'll know what to do with it. And I'm sure he'll be glad to see his little godson."

"That's a good idea," Hermione responded. "I'll see you later, Tonks."

Tonks nodded happily and returned to her cubicle.

"How about it, Aiden?" Hermione asked her little son. "Want to go see Uncle Harry?"

"Unghery!" Aiden cooed, clapping his hands with glee.

Hermione smiled. _That _she knew meant _Uncle Harry._ "I'll take that as a yes," Hermione replied. Hermione readjusted Aiden on her hip and continued on to the office in the corner. Seeing that the door was slightly ajar, Hermione assumed that this meant she could enter. Without bothering to knock, Hermione pushed the door open.

At the sound of the opening door, two heads swiveled around to stare at her. Hermione was greeted by two pairs of staring eyes – one a startled green and the other a haunting grey. Sitting in front of Harry's desk was none other than Draco Malfoy.

- - -

_Dashing as the day we met,  
Only there is something I don't recognize.  
Though I cannot name it yet, I know it.  
Beautiful is what you are,  
Only somehow wearing a frightening disguise.  
I can see the winter in your eyes, love, telling me:  
"Thank you, We're done here, Not much to say.  
We are together but I have had dividing day."_

- - -

"So, Malfoy, the usual questions…"

"No, I haven't done any Dark Arts. No, I haven't met with any Death Eaters. No, I haven't tried to recreate the resurrection of the Dark Lord," Malfoy droned.

Harry sighed and then nodded. "Is there anything else you would like to tell me?"

Draco snorted. "You ask me that every week, Potter. And every week, I respond with the same answer: what could I possibly have to tell you?"

"All right," Harry said, slightly annoyed. "Then just hand over your wand and I'll let you go."

Harry had just returned Malfoy's wand to Malfoy when the door suddenly opened. Looking up, Harry felt a huge sense of dread in his stomach. In the doorframe stood the very last person - other than the reincarnation of Voldemort - that Harry wanted to see at that moment. It was Hermione, holding Aiden in her arms. Her brown eyes were bright and wide with shock.

"H-Hermione?" Harry jumped up out of his chair. A couple of photo frames toppled over. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm… I'm just… papering some drop offs… I mean dropping off some papers," Hermione rambled. "Oh, I suppose I should have knocked. I'm so sorry. I'll wait outside. I'm so sorry." Hermione slammed the door shut.

Harry stared at the closed door for a while before he looked back at Malfoy. Malfoy hadn't moved at all. His head was still turned towards the door, but his eyes were downcast and his shoulders slumped.

"Err… Malfoy?" Harry said uneasily.

Malfoy slowly moved his head to look at Harry. "Aiden," he said.

"Excuse me?"

"Aiden," he repeated. "Her son. That was her son."

"Oh," Harry said. "Yes."

Malfoy silently stood up and moved towards the door.

"Malfoy!" He stopped and turned to look at Harry.

"What is it, Potter?"

"Are you…" Harry cleared his throat. "Are you all right?"

Malfoy turned his head away. "What do you think?" he snarled in a low voice. Malfoy flung the door open and left without another sound.

Harry slumped into his chair and allowed his head to fall onto and then hit the desk. He couldn't believe that had just happened. _Hermione!_ he thought. Harry dashed outside his office, expecting… _hoping_ to see Hermione sitting on the bench just outside the door. But when he got there, the bench was empty except for a neat little pile of papers. Harry smacked himself on the head. What was he going to tell Ron? No. He wasn't going to tell Ron anything. After all, nothing had happened. Hermione had just happened to see Malfoy. They hadn't talked, and Hermione showed no signs of recognizing Malfoy. It was better, he decided. He couldn't tell Ron. Ron would just worry, and there was nothing to worry about… right?

- - -

_So when, when was this day?  
Was it on the church step?  
Suddenly you're out of love.  
Does it go creeping slowly?  
When was your dividing day?_

- - -

Hermione could feel her heart in her throat. She sat on the bench, trying to catch her breath.

Malfoy. She had just seen Malfoy. When their eyes met, she felt lightheaded and restricted at the same time. She couldn't think. She couldn't breathe. She could only stare into his grey eyes.

Harry had brought her back to her senses, and the moment he did, she had dashed out. Hermione didn't know why, but she couldn't stay there with Malfoy.

"I think it's time to go home, Ai," Hermione said to her little son. Leaving the papers on the bench, Hermione started collecting her things to go. A sudden door slam drew her attention, and she looked up to see what it was.

Someone had swept by her angrily. When Hermione looked more closely, she caught sight of white blonde hair. Without even thinking, Hermione started chasing after him. When she was a few feet behind him, she managed to find her voice and call out his name. "Malfoy!"

"What is i-" Malfoy started to say as he angrily turned around. The moment he saw her, he stopped speaking. His face broke down really quickly, but Malfoy then quickly recomposed himself. "Granger," he said evenly. "Or should I say… _Weasley_ now."

"Professionally, I still go by Granger… or did, anyway. When I was still working," Hermione corrected.

Malfoy gave her a bored look. "Well, what do you want?" he drawled. "Did you stop me here in the hallway to tell me about the wondrous evolution of your last name?"

Hermione blushed. "No, I…"

"Well, what is it? Because you are wasting my time."

Hermione was confused now. In her new memories, Hermione could tell they had gotten along. Maybe they weren't best friends, but they most certainly weren't jumping down each other's throats like Malfoy was now. Were her memories wrong? _There's still a lot you don't remember_, she reminded herself. _Perhaps something happened. Like you and he got into a fight_. But how could she bring it up? How could she ask him without sounding ridiculous or being obvious? And more importantly… did she really want to know if she was right? Did she want to know if she was _wrong_?

"I just… wanted to know how you are," Hermione finished lamely.

Malfoy laughed harshly. "What is with you people and frivolous, foolish small talk? That's not what you wanted to say to me, Granger. Now spit it out before I leave."

Hermione drew up all her courage. She needed to know the truth. _Now or never. _"What happened three years ago in the cabin?" she asked finally.

Malfoy stared wordlessly at her. His eyes were finally unshielded, and Hermione could swear in his eyes she caught a brief glimpse of anger, fear, and… pain? Hermione couldn't say for sure because it vanished almost as quickly as it came. Malfoy's eyes returned to a steely, emotionless grey. "I have no idea what you're blathering on about, Granger."

"But…"

"This is nonsense," Malfoy said, cutting her off. "I have no time to play games like this."

Hermione grasped for words. "I…"

"So if you have nothing of importance to say," Malfoy brusquely continued, "I'll be on my way."

Malfoy was turning to go. Hermione felt a strange falling sensation in her stomach. He was leaving. She couldn't let him leave. _Not again_. "Malfoy… please, wait… Malfoy…" He kept going, ignoring her. "Draco, listen to me!" she finally called out in frustration.

Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks, his back still facing Hermione. He seemed to be breathing deeply, as his shoulders were rising and falling at an extreme pace. Hermione cautiously walked toward him. "Malfoy?" she asked.

Without saying anything else, Malfoy walked away, leaving Hermione completely confused.

- - -

_When was dividing day?  
Was it on the church step?  
Did it happen right away?  
Were you lying next to me,  
Hiding what you couldn't say?  
How could I have guessed?  
Was my cheek upon your chest?  
An ocean away…_

- - -

Draco's world was spinning. He somehow managed to Apparate back to the manor without splinching himself, but once he reached the manor, he collapsed onto the marble floor. Draco couldn't breathe. He could barely _see_. Draco had come close to dying many different times before, but he was certain that this was more painful than all those times combined. He was absolutely positive that any torture would be less painful than what he had just suffered back at the Ministry.

She had been there, looking almost exactly the same as he remembered her. Something was slightly different though. Three years of marriage and motherhood had changed her, he supposed. She carried herself differently now. Draco wasn't sure how else to explain it. But physically, it was as if a memory had come to life.

As if that alone were not cruel enough, she was there with her son. Draco's heart ached at the thought of her carrying her young son who looked so ridiculously like Weasley, from the same blue eyes to the obnoxiously red hair. Draco closed his eyes, trying so hard to chase that image away.

Her voice. He couldn't run from it or chase it away. The sound of it kept ringing in his ears, haunting him like a ghostly melody.

_Draco, listen to me…_

Draco tried to stand, but his legs felt like they would collapse from beneath him. Unsteadily, he tried to walk upstairs to his room. But he couldn't make it up the winding staircase. Draco sat down on the step, hoping to clear his head.

She had spoken to him. She had spoken to him _civilly _as if somehow she knew… Draco jerked his head up. She had asked about the cabin three years ago. Was it possible? Could she somehow have _remembered…?_

He shook his head violently. Draco couldn't afford to waste time on such stupid and ridiculous fancies. He couldn't afford to get his hopes up. All these years, Draco had already suffered enough disappointments.

She was happy now. She was married and had a family. And she didn't remember and she never would. He knew that.

- - -

_When was  
When was dividing day?_

- - -

"Hermione? Is everything all right?"

"Olivia," Hermione gasped, "you'll… I…"

"Here, sit," Olivia instructed, directing Hermione to her sofa. "Now, after you've caught your breath, maybe you can try to explain to me what happened."

Hermione nodded. She inhaled and exhaled slowly until finally her breathing had some semblance of normalcy. Hermione wasn't sure how to lead in to what she wanted to say, so she decided not to. "I saw Draco Malfoy," she said bluntly, without any introduction.

Olivia's mouth dropped. "Where?"

"At the Ministry," Hermione replied. "Ron left some papers at home, so I went to return them to him. He wasn't there… but Malfoy was."

Olivia was still slackjawed and gaping at her. "Did you… _talk _to him?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"Yeah," Hermione said. She sighed. "But it wasn't much of a conversation. He didn't seem to care to talk to me."

"Why?"

"I have absolutely no idea."

Olivia looked at the ceiling thoughtfully. "Maybe you two weren't friends after a while. You did say you don't remember anything past November of that year."

"No." Hermione shook her head adamantly. "It was different. It wasn't like he hated me or he was mad at me. It was like didn't even want to see me. Like he wanted to get away as quickly as possible. And his eyes…" Hermione's voice drifted off. The image of his stormy grey eyes had burned itself into her memory, and ever since the Ministry, she couldn't help but constantly think about them.

Olivia raised an eyebrow. "His eyes?" she repeated.

"Something about them. I don't know," Hermione muttered, flushing a bit. After collecting herself a bit, she tried to explain. "It was the only part that showed any emotion at all. The rest of his face was like a mask. Only his eyes…"

"Right," Olivia said, slightly apprehensively. "Well, did you find out any useful information from him?"

Hermione shrugged. "I asked him about what happened three years ago in the cabin."

Olivia looked at her expectantly. "And?" she asked eagerly.

"Nothing," Hermione answered blandly.

Olivia's face dropped. "Nothing?"

Hermione shook her head. "Olivia, do you think perhaps… my memories didn't actually happen? That perhaps they're just creations of an overactive imagination?" Hermione asked in a small voice.

Sighing, Olivia took Hermione by the shoulders firmly. "We've been through this fifty times now. No. I do not. There's too much evidence that supports your memories. Like, remember how you told me about Malfoy reading that Muggle book… what was it?"

"_Mayor of Casterbridge_," Hermione replied automatically.

"Right," Olivia said, nodding. "We found that at the cabin, remember? And don't forget the newspaper articles. Someone modified your memory, and clearly that someone didn't want you to remember what happened for whatever reason. But obviously, they can't stop your memories from coming back… which they seem to be doing now. You _are_ remembering what happened three years ago. It's just your so-called friends have been lying to you these last few years so now you're unsure."

"It's not just that," Hermione interjected. "It's Malfoy's reaction, too. It was so weird, Olivia. It's almost as if I'm living in some sort of parallel universe. None of this makes sense."

"That's because we don't have all the pieces of the puzzle yet," Olivia responded. "But once we do, I bet all of this… _everything_ will make sense. You just need to get all the information you can."

"How?"

"We need to get the information from someone who we can be sure wouldn't lie to us," Olivia mused. "But who?"

"Well, certainly not Ron," Hermione huffed, crossing her arms. "_He_ hasn't exactly been very truthful about this Malfoy thing."

Olivia quirked an eyebrow at her. "Not say that it's not justified, but may I remind you that _you_ are currently doing the same thing?"

Hermione looked at Olivia indignantly. "It's not the same!" she exclaimed. "_I'm_ trying to find the truth that Ron so deliberately hid – _and continues to hide_." Hermione threw up her arms in frustration. "Sometimes, in darker moments, I wonder what _else_ Ron has lied to me about. I would suspect everything if he weren't such a terrible liar."

"Maybe he had his reasons…"

Hermione looked at the girl in amazement. "Olivia, why are you defending him?"

Olivia shrugged. "I really don't know," she admitted. "I like playing devil's advocate sometimes, I guess."

"Well, I'm sure you're right. Ron probably does have his reasons," Hermione said. "Stupid, immature, inane reasons, but reasons nonetheless. Probably some stupid thing he got mad at Malfoy for. Don't ask me to get into that boy's head. He can be so absolutely ridiculous and unreasonable sometimes!"

Olivia looked at Hermione thoughtfully. She snapped her fingers. "I got it. There is definitely one person you can talk to," she said.

"Who?" Hermione asked eagerly.

"Malfoy," Olivia replied.

"Right," Hermione said, "if only he'd talk to me. I told you, Olivia, when I tried talking to him, he didn't even care to listen to what I had to say."

"He's your best shot," Olivia insisted. "Who else would know better what happened to him? Everyone else is hiding it from you, so we have no reason to believe they would tell you even if you asked. There's a lot more to this story than you remember and anyone else has ever told you. Malfoy is your best bet, Hermione."

"Maybe you're right," Hermione said reluctantly.

"Just think about it," Olivia said. "Ultimately, it's your memory and it's your decision. Maybe some things are better left undiscovered."

"Maybe," Hermione said doubtfully.

Olivia patted Hermione's hand reassuringly. "Whatever you choose, I'm sure it will be for the best."

Hermione sighed. "I hope so."

* * *

**AN: **Yes! It finally happened! I was wondering when the best time for them to meet might be, and I figured now might be all right. (There are some overlaps in narration, but I figured my readers would be bright enough to figure it out!) So their first great confrontation! Guess it wasn't that great. 

Anyway, poor Draco! Poor Hermione! She's so frustrated and angry now. Can't blame her though.

Greatly appreciated, reviews are.

Hope everyone has fun reading DH! Oh what shall happen...?


	14. Decisions and Denials

**AN: **At long last, here is the next chapter. This story is getting increasingly harder to write. I had the beginning well planned out, and the end was fairly set... the middle however... more like a mushy, undefined bit. It's kinda like how in a trilogy, the second one is always the worst one. But at any rate...

I finished Deathly Hallows! Actually I finished it 5:30 AM July 22 (I only got it at 10 PM July 21!). Now, I shan't reveal anything for those who haven't read it (and I'll request that reviews be spoiler-free as well... but you knew that already), but I must say... wtf?! about some of the character deaths. They made me so mad! Of course, if characters we didn't care about died, what would be the point in that? Oh, is that revealing too much? I hope not! But at any rate, it was an enjoyable endeavor, and a fitting end to the series. I can't believe it's over though! So depressing. Oh, and my ship has officially sunk. I mean obviously Draco and Hermione were never going to happen (says inner me: LA LA LA I CAN'T HEAR YOU), but now with Book 7... le sigh.

Thank you to my wonderful reviewers: **Avanell, Mela, confusednikki24-7, cmtaylor531, lostxatx7thxsea, ShatteredTruth, BlueIrishEyes, missbookwormmalfoy, **and** Hermione09Weasley.** I truly am grateful for all your comments and they do help a lot. And BIE... yes. I was channeling teh Yoda. I heart Star Wars.

Strangely enough, the thing that held me back for a while with this one was the title of the chapter. Weird, right?

I apologise in advance for typos and that sort. This chapter has not been betaed. (gasp.)

* * *

**  
Stand and Watch It Burn**

**XIV. Decisions and Denials  
**

"Hey, love," Ginny said, greeting Harry when he finally arrived at the table.

"Hey, sorry I'm late," Harry replied, giving Ginny a quick kiss before sitting down at his seat.

"What would you like to drink, Mr. Potter?" asked the waiter who had been very attentively standing nearby.

"Butterbeer, please," Harry said.

"And for you, Miss?"

"Water will be fine," Ginny replied.

The waiter nodded. "Very well, I shall return shortly to take your orders," he said.

After perusing the menu for a while, Ginny set it down. "So what kept you, Harry?"

"Busy at work," Harry mumbled as he tried to decide what to order. Should he get the steak or lamb chops?

"Get the steak, Harry. You always regret it when you get lamb."

"Wha…?" Harry stared up confusedly.

Ginny merely smiled. "You always get that look when you're trying to decide between one thing and something else. And at this restaurant you only get steak or lamb. Every time you choose lamb, you always go on and on afterward about how you should have chosen the steak. So do us both a favour and choose the steak."

Harry scowled slightly. "Fine. I was going to choose steak anyway," he added with an air of defiance.

"So what were you busy with?"

Before Harry could respond, the waiter had returned, as promised, with their drinks and to take their orders. Ginny placed her order, and then Harry did too. The waiter then disappeared to place them in the kitchen.

"So," Ginny said, fluffing her napkin and placing it on her lap, "you were saying?"

"Mmf?" Harry asked, his mouth full of bread.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Chew," she ordered, "then talk."

Harry chewed what was in his mouth and swallowed. "A lot of things."

"Today was eventful, I take it."

"You have no idea," Harry mumbled. Ginny raised her eyebrows at this.

"Is something wrong?" Ginny asked, slightly alarmed.

Harry shrugged. "Depends what you mean by _wrong_, I suppose."

Ginny narrowed her eyes. "Is this work-related or something else?"

"Both."

"Both," Ginny repeated. "Well, let's start with the something else."

"Well, you know Draco Malfoy checks in with me every week…"

"Isn't that work-related?"

Harry sighed. "Unfortunately not."

Ginny twisted her lips. "All right, then you have some explaining to do."

"As part of his parole, he checks in with me once a week until his three month term is over. And he checked in with me today. It's really quick, actually. I just ask him a few questions, he answers them, I check his wand, and he's off on his way doing… Merlin knows what," Harry said. He paused. "It doesn't seem like he really does much."

Ginny sighed. "What _can_ he do? He was convicted as a Death Eater and thrown into Azkaban. People still remember that. It's not like he can just go out and frolic in the streets."

"Sometimes, I wonder," Harry said, "if maybe we were wrong about him…"

Ginny looked at him sharply. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know," Harry said uneasily. What _did _he mean? "It's just a feeling I get around him sometimes. Maybe… Maybe we made a mistake."

Ginny said nothing for a while. Her eyes were looking down, fixed on the table cloth. "What's the problem with Malfoy?" she finally asked, her voice sounding rather restricted. Clearly, she had decided to not address Harry's statement.

Harry wisely decided to let what he said before go. He knew how Ginny felt and ruled it unsafe to cross her. "Well, today was his day to check in, which he did with punctuality. Malfoy's never late. I had just checked his wand and was about to let him go when we received a rather unexpected visitor." Harry stopped and cleared his throat. "Hermione came into my office."

Ginny's eyebrows flew up. "Hermione?" she asked, alarmed.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Hermione."

"What was she doing there?"

"Ron left some papers at home. Urgent papers. So Hermione came to drop them off, but I'm guessing since Ron was out doing some field work she decided to leave them with me instead. My door wasn't locked or even closed, so she just walked in without knocking."

Ginny's eyes were very wide. "What happened then?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"Hermione jumped back and kept shouting apologies and then she slammed the door. It was rather… abrupt."

"And Malfoy?"

"He didn't say much."

"Nothing at all?"

"Well, Hermione had Aiden with her, and Malfoy saw… So he asked me if that was Aiden and I told him yes. He didn't such much else."

Ginny pressed her lips together tightly. "Should we be worried?"

Harry started to shake his head but then stopped. "I'm not sure," he said a bit hesitantly. "I doubt Malfoy would go looking for her…"

"I mean… should we be worried about their safety?"

"No!" Harry's outburst was a little loud, and patrons at nearby tables turned to see what the commotion was. Many, seeing that it was the Boy Who Lived Again smiled and waved and called out greetings. Harry abashedly waved back. When the clamor had died down a bit, he turned again to Ginny. "That's crazy, Gin. I know how you feel about Malfoy, but even you have to admit that the idea of Malfoy hurting Hermione or her son is outlandish."

Ginny crossed her arms. "And if he goes to find Hermione?"

"I warned him about it before and I believe he said to me that he wasn't that stupid." Harry leaned forward. "But I'm actually more worried about Hermione. When I went back out to look for her, she wasn't there. I thought she might wait for me outside in the hallway, but she had disappeared."

"Hermione has been acting a bit strangely of late," Ginny admitted. "Maybe being stuck at home all the time doing nothing but housework and taking care of Aiden is starting to get to her. My mum can do it, but not Hermione. You know that Hermione's more used to being active and using her mind. I told Ron to let Mum take care of Aiden and let Hermione go back to work."

"Yeah," Harry said quietly.

Ginny seemed to be considering something. "Should I talk to her?"

"Do you think you should?"

"I don't know," Ginny said. She bit her lip. "She mentioned Malfoy to me over a month ago."

Harry stared at her. "She what?"

"It was after the article in _The Daily Prophet _came out saying Malfoy might be released. She also mentioned something about a dream…"

Now Harry looked very alarmed. "A _dream_?! Why didn't you mention this before?"

"She hasn't asked again," Ginny said defensively. "It was just a dream, Harry. It could mean anything. Maybe reading about Malfoy in the paper again made her think of him. Hermione only found any significance in the dream because in it he called her by her first name."

Harry rapped his fingers on the table. "She hasn't mentioned it again?" he asked.

Ginny shook her head. "Not once." She smiled assertively at Harry. "Hermione and I are best friends. She tells me about everything. She has never lied to me, and I've never lied to her… save for one thing." Ginny's smile faded slightly. "But, Harry, I'm sure if something were happening, I would be the first person Hermione would tell. She never hesitates to owl me or Floo in the middle of the night if something's bothering her or if she and Ron had a row."

"You're probably right," Harry said, trying to convince himself. "We're not sure, and we shouldn't… if she doesn't remember…"

"It's better," Ginny agreed. "But what about Ron…?"

"No," Harry immediately said. "We can't tell Ron."

Ginny looked at Harry before nodding. "He'll just worry, and there may be nothing to worry about at all."

The two of them sat in silence, each contemplating the situation, both fearing the worst but praying for the best… praying that their greatest fears were completely unfounded…

"What was your work-related problem?"

Harry blinked. "Oh. Well, this morning, a few urgent papers were sent over to Ron, but he must have forgotten… anyway, there's been a small breakout in Azkaban. A few high security cells were compromised. The guards were able to recapture most of the escaped prisoners, but one of them managed to slip out." Harry grimaced.

"Who?"

"Lucius Malfoy."

x x x

Hermione didn't know what to do.

She had stayed up half the night before, tossing and turning, thinking and debating about what she must do next. Ron had grumbled this morning about her fretting making _him_ sleep poorly as well. She sighed. She had tried so hard to lay still. It wasn't as if she wanted to announce to Ron that something like this was bothering her.

As she paced back and forth in her living room, Hermione kept thinking about what Olivia had said. "_Whatever you choose, I'm sure it'll be for the best._" How could she possibly know? Hermione sighed and sat down on her sofa, letting her head drop onto one of the throw pillows. What _was_ the best? She didn't know. She couldn't say.

Maybe… maybe the best was things as they are now. She had lived so well for three years not knowing what happened three years ago, she probably could keep living on without ever knowing. Quite happily too, Hermione noted. After all, wasn't she happy? She married a man who loved her, and she had a perfect child whom she adored. Wasn't this all she had ever dreamed about and hoped for?

But something had been missing. Hermione had thought that maybe it was because she was no longer working. There was a bit of a void, almost as if she were missing a part of herself. Ever since she had begun remembering things in her past, though, she had felt a little less empty, almost as if she were rediscovering parts of herself. Like she was finding things she never even knew she had lost. And Hermione knew she simply could not live on, knowing that there was something that happened three years ago that she could not remember. Now that she knew, she could not be content not learning what it was she had forgotten. Perhaps they were frivolous, unimportant events. She had a right to know, regardless. But her instincts told her they were not…

_I've come too far_, Hermione thought. All the work she had done, all the digging and searching and speculating, all the lies… Hermione winced. _But I had to_, she thought firmly to herself. _I had no choice_.

She had to find out what happened three years ago. She had to know, and she was going to find out.

Hermione went to Aiden's room, picked him up, and brought him over to the fireplace. After conjuring up a fire, she took some Floo powder and threw it into the flames.

"Olivia Pinkerton!" There was a popping sound and Hermione put her head in.

"Hermione?" Olivia swiveled at the sound to look at her fire.

"Olivia, I've made my decision. I'm going to see Malfoy. Would you mind if lI eft Aiden with you?"

"Not at all. I'm sure Robby would like a playmate."

"Thank you. I'll be over in a minute."

Hermione pulled her head out and looked over at her son. "How would you like that Ai? Would you like to go to Auntie Olivia's and play with Robby?" Aiden smiled up at his mother. "Of course you would," she cooed. "Well, let's be off!" Hermione picked him up and stepped in through the fire.

Olivia lived in a small, modest house. Though it was small, it was a very cozy place. The wooden floors were covered with warm carpets, and the walls were painted a serene sea green. Olivia stood in front of the fireplace, Robby by her side. She smiled as Hermione arrived.

"Hello," she said. "Say hi, Robby."

The little sandy-haired boy with light blue eyes looked up shyly at Hermione from behind his mother's legs. "Hi Auntie Herm… Herm…"

"_Her-my-oh-nee_," Olivia enunciated clearly.

"Herm… Hermione."

"Hello, Robby," Hermione said, crouching down so she was at eye level with him. "How have you been?"

"Good," he answered. Robby pointed at the little boy in Hermione's arms. "Is that Aiden?"

Hermione smiled. "Why, yes it is. Would you like to help your mum take care of him and play with him for the afternoon?"

Robby beamed. "Okay!"

Hermione straightened up. "Thank you for watching him, Olivia. I'm…"

"No need," Olivia said, taking Aiden from Hermione. "Don't worry about him; I'll take care of him, I promise. You have things to attend to."

"Yeah. I'm just not sure if it's the right thing…"

Olivia patted Hermione on the shoulder reassuringly. "I hoped you would go talk to him," she admitted. "That is what I thought you should do, but I didn't want to interfere with your own decision. It _is_ your decision, Hermione. You can still change your mind now. But would you really be content not knowing when you're so close?"

Hermione shook her head.

"Right, then. So you know what you must do."

"You're right," Hermione said. "I… I guess I just needed someone to agree with me."

"Any time," Olivia joked. She gave Hermione a curious look. "How are you going to get there?"

"I'm going to Apparate right outside Malfoy Manor and…"

Olivia raised an eyebrow. "And how do you know where that is?"

"I…" Hermione stopped. How did she know? "I don't know. I… I just do."

x x x

"Bloody insects," Draco grumbled.

He was out in his garden again. Lately, it seemed to him, he was in there more often than not. The physical work kept him from thinking too much. It also made him feel productive. Draco hadn't left the house much other than to check in with Harry. Besides gardening, he passed most of his time either stalking around the house or reading in the library. Seeing his garden flourish gave him some sense of fulfillment and meaning. But most importantly, it gave him something to focus on that wasn't… well…

A few weeks ago, Draco had had to deal with a strange weedy takeover. Today, the problem was insects. A lot of them. They had, it seemed, declared war on Draco's columbines. His lovely violet blooms were dotted with strange insects that simply wouldn't go away.

Draco narrowed his eyes, staring at the insects. There was one easy way of solving this.

"_Fugo Lues_."

In an instant, every unsightly pest had been forcibly removed from the columbines. Draco smirked. He usually tried to avoid using magic in his garden, but he did make exceptions sometimes, for very special cases. This was definitely a special case.

_Draco – 1. Annoying buggers – 0, _he thought triumphantly.

Small victory maybe, but a victory nonetheless. At least he was winning something. His other scorecard was something like _World – 238,743, Draco – 0._ Draco scowled and shook his head. No. Must focus on the positive.

Draco began making his rounds, watering and inspecting his plants. He worked from the outer edges of his garden to the centre. He always worked from the edges inward.

As he neared the centre though, he slowed down, taking more time to examine each individual plant. Finally, he came upon the very heart of his garden… and he was shocked by what he saw.

Draco stared in utter disbelief. _It can't be_, he thought. Carefully, he reached out and grazed his fingertips on it. It was real, so very real.

Sitting primly on the once barren bush was a single, white rose. Draco touched it again, taking hold of one of the petals. Between his fingers, he could feel its soft velvetiness. He still couldn't believe it. _It hasn't bloomed for three years… It hadn't bloomed all the time this summer…_ But now it had. And Draco could see other small buds too. Soon, the bush would be filled with beautiful white roses. For the first time since his release from Azkaban, Draco's face broke out into a genuine smile.

For a few minutes, Draco stood there, adoring that one blossom. He took his pruning sheers and carefully cut off the rose, taking care to rid it of the thorns as well.

There was a loud crack. "Young Master?"

Draco turned around. "Hetty?"

"Young Master has a guest waiting for you in the sitting room," Hetty squeaked.

_A guest?_ Who could possibly be visiting him? "Thank you, Hetty," Draco said, nodding. He hadn't had guests since his release. Draco felt slightly heady with excitement. "I'll be there shortly."

x x x

_Half an hour earlier…_

Earlier that day, Hermione had been pacing in her living room. Now she was pacing by the front gates of Malfoy Manor.

She had decided she wanted to know. She had decided she would come. Now she was here. And yet, she could not bring herself to go in.

The main reason, Hermione told herself, was because simply she did not know how to enter. Was she to knock? There was nothing to knock on. Could she just push the gates open? Maybe there was some secret password she had to say before she could be granted access. The password was probably something Slytherin-y like "pureblood" or "Mudblood" or some other thing having to do with blood.

"Bloody hell," Hermione mumbled.

The other reason – and it was only a very, _very_ small part – was because despite her determination to go ask Malfoy, she was still afraid. Afraid of what he might say. Afraid of what he might do. Afraid of what he might tell her. And even more afraid… that he would say nothing at all.

After twenty more minutes of deliberation, Hermione stopped pacing, turned toward the gates, and pushed on them.

They didn't open.

Hermione threw up her arms. "For Merlin's sake!" she hollered. "What the bloo – "

"Is Miss looking for someone?"

Hermione practically jumped three feet in the air. Standing in front of her, on the other side of the gates, was a small house elf, dressed in a bed sheet.

"Yes, I'm looking for…"

"Oh, Miss, it's you! Hetty didn't recognize! Hetty apologises… it's been so long. Please come in!" With a wave of her hand, the house elf opened the front gates.

_Recognize?_ Hermione looked at the house elf, utterly confused. The house elf, however, did not seem to notice, instead beckoning Hermione to follow her.

Hermione followed Hetty through Malfoy Manor. Her head was constantly spinning, trying to take everything in. No wonder Malfoy acted like such a swotty prince at Hogwarts. The place he grew up in was practically a palace. Marble floors, sweeping staircases, crystal chandeliers, silk curtains! It was breathtakingly beautiful, though coldly austere. For all its grandeur, it lacked the warmth and coziness a humbler place like the Burrow had that could make it a home.

Hetty had led Hermione into a small blue room with two upright armchairs facing an empty fireplace. After closing the door, Hetty turned to Hermione. "Would Miss like tea?"

"No thank you, Hetty. I'd like to see Mal… er, Draco, please."

"Oh, certainly, Miss! Please takes a seat while I go gets the Young Master." Hetty disappeared with a loud crack.

Slowly, Hermione walked over to one of the chairs and sat down. _This room…_ Her fingers traced the swirling silver designs on the blue fabric of the armchair.

"_This room needs a little a little something…"_

"_What is it now?"_

"_Silver accents. To bring out the silver in the fabric."_

"_You sound unbearably like my mother. Like Pansy."_

"_I mean it! This room would be so much lovelier…"_

Hermione's eyes wandered across the room. The paintings hanging on the walls were set off by silver frames. _Silver accents…_

x x x

_Perhaps I should change…_ Draco looked down at his current attire. He was, at the moment, dressed for gardening, not receiving guests. His grey work robes were covered with dirt and twigs and leaves. His father would have an absolute _fit_ if he knew that Draco was receiving guests in the manor in such a dowdy fashion.

Draco smirked slightly. _Mustn't keep my guest waiting,_ he thought. _Father would be so proud_.

As he drew nearer to the sitting room, he wondered who his guest might be. Draco had been so shocked by Hetty's announcement of a guest that he hadn't thought to ask her who it was. _No matter, _he thought cheerfully_. I'll find out soon enough_. He mentally ran through a list of people of his guest might be. It wasn't very long. _Blaise? _He hadn't seen Zabini in ages. Zabini and his mother, though sympathetic toward the Dark Lord during the war, had never taken an official stance either way. _Pansy_? His mother had informed him last week that she had married Theodore Nott less than a year ago. Maybe it was Davids, coming in to check on his charity case…

He could see the door of the sitting room now. It was shut. As he got closer, his footsteps unwillingly slowed. For some reason, Draco felt a strange sense of foreboding filling his stomach. It wasn't a pleasant feeling at all. He tried to ignore it. Forcing his feet to keep moving, he continued down the hallway.

x x x

The sound of footsteps approaching echoed through the hallway. Hermione took a few deep breaths. The footsteps were getting nearer and louder. As they got closer, they seemed to slow down a little until they stopped, right outside the door. Hermione turned her body slightly so that she was now facing the door. She could feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest and her stomach fluttering with anticipation. What would he say? What would _she_ say? Suddenly, Hermione felt utterly foolish. She hadn't even thought about what she would say to him! This was all going to go wrong. Maybe she could call Hetty and tell her she made a mistake before...

Then the door opened, and he stepped through. Hermione could only stare.

It was Draco Malfoy, but not like she ever remembered seeing him. He was dressed in simple dark grey robes with edges that looked like they had been trailed in dirt. His hair was slightly messy. In his hand, he held a single white rose. When the door had swung fully open, she caught sight of his face. There was a slight smile on his face, as if he were genuinely pleased about something. His eyes were warm and unguarded.

The expression on his face changed quickly when he recognized her. Instead of the contempt or disgust that Hermione had expected, Malfoy appeared shocked and surprised.

His reaction slipped out before he had a chance to compose himself. "_Hermione?_"

Time stopped. In the next few seconds, weeks and months of images flew through her mind. The cabin. Snow. The coming of spring. All the small snippets of what she had thought might be memories finally came together seamlessly into a cohesive whole. Finally, she remembered. She knew what Ron, Harry, and everyone had been hiding from her.

Hermione stood up unsteadily. She looked up and into his eyes. Finally, she knew.

"Draco," she whispered.

* * *

**AN: **AT LAST. THEY MEET AGAIN AND GASP. SHE REMEMBERS. But what does she remember, exactly? Ah, for that my friends, you must review to discover... 

But at any rate, I consider this chapter important on other levels too. Firstly, Ginny and Harry's discussion over what to do. I wasn't really sure how to kick off this chapter initially, but I decided that we needed to see what other people are thinking. (Notably, we have really yet to see how Ron feels... oops, have I said too much?) While this is about Draco and Hermione, it's also about the people around them too. Ginny is sure that Hermione would lie to her, just as she'd never lie to Hermione... except for about one thing. And Hermione never has lied to Ginny... except for one thing. Oh, what complicated webs we weave!

Secondly, we learn what the urgent papers were about! BIE, you almost hit it. I'm not a big fan of CPDs (convenient plot devices) so most everything I put in does have some significance. Just in case anyone was wondering: Ron did eventually remember about the papers, and he and Harry straightened that out. I tried writing the scene in, but it didn't fit. But anyway LUCIUS MALFOY IS ON THE RUN.

I wasn't sure if Hermione would be so indecisive. I'll admit now that I've actually put a lot of myself into Hermione... mostly because young Hermione is one I most relate to. In my younger years "know-it-all" and "bossy" were common adjectives thrown at me. I love reading. A lot of Hermione's favourite titles are also mine. That is why Hermione is so indecisive... because I know I would be. It is a monumental decision, after all. Who wouldn't be?

Hm. Longest author notes ever. Well, I hope you liked this chapter. The next update should be soon. Review please!


	15. When She Knew

**AN: **Well here it is, the next chapter! I told you it'd be soon. And you're in luck - the one after this should be pretty quick too.

And wow! Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I was never more surprised and pleased. Thank you to **Avanell, missbookwormmalfoy, cmtaylor531, confusednikki24-7, lostxatx7thxsea, Emilee, Hermione09Weasley, ghzowy, Opy, StarShinobi, DarkPrincessPyro99, FALLENforangel, Mela, ShatteredTruth, **and **xDracoBabeyx.** I'm glad you're all liking the story. And thank you for taking the time to tell me so. :D No greater reward, really.

I know you're all anxious to find out what happens next in Malfoy Manor (and I promise you'll find out soon) but let's take a look back at something Hermione remembered, shall we? I'm sure you'll all find it rather interesting.**  
**

* * *

**Stand and Watch It Burn**

**XV. When She Knew**

**Three years ago…**

"Malfoy, are you ready?" Hermione yelled.

"Just a minute," a frustrated voice hollered back.

"We're going to be late!"

"Give me a bloody minute!"

Hermione let out an exasperated breath and threw up her arms. Malfoy had surprised everyone when he insisted on partaking in the festivities for Christmas. He had even joined in on the gift exchange. She and Malfoy were supposed to be at Orders Headquarters at 5:00 PM and it was now 4:57 PM. Hermione buttoned up her red overcoat and adjusted her wooly red and white snowflake mittens for what must have been the fifteenth time. She had been ready ten minutes ago, but Malfoy was taking forever doing… Merlin knew what. He had locked himself in Remus's bedroom over an hour ago and was now refusing to come out.

Hermione walked over and rapped loudly on the door. "I'm serious, Malfoy. We need to go."

The door swung open and a very disgruntled Malfoy appeared, startling Hermione a bit. "What?" he growled.

"We need to go," Hermione repeated. She poked her head in the room. "What were you doing in there?"

Malfoy thrust a box at Hermione, haphazardly wrapped with green shiny paper. "Here," he said.

"What's this?" Hermione took the box and looked at it. It was a mess. Ends of the poorly cut wrapping paper were sticking out, the ribbon was crooked, and the bow was askew. "Were you wrapping a _present_? Merlin, Malfoy, why didn't you ask me to help? This is a disaster! You should have just asked me and…" Hermione's voice trailed off when she noticed the look on Malfoy's face. "Oh, Malfoy… you didn't…"

"Yeah, whatever," Malfoy grumbled. "Happy Christmas, Hermione."

Hermione's eyes widened fully. "You got me a gift?" she asked in astonishment.

"Is that not what people do for Christmas?" Malfoy asked. "I know I'm new at this 'buying gifts for other people' thing but I'm sure I got this right."

She eyed the package with interest, rotating it around so she could examine it from all angles. "What is it?"

"Well, open it and you'll find out, Granger," Malfoy drawled, crossing his arms.

Hermione tore off the wrapping paper and opened the box. She gasped when she saw its contents. "The Book of Aneirin?" It was a big, hardbound book and clearly very old. Carefully, Hermione opened the cover and gasped again when she saw all the beautiful illuminations.

"I remember you mentioning something about Aneirin when we were discussing the mythology behind _The Iliad_ a month ago," Malfoy explained. "I actually studied the bard under my tutor."

"Oh, Draco, thank you, thank you, thank you!" Hermione breathed, taking in the scent of the old paper and ancient ink. She looked up at him. "You really shouldn't have," she said. Hermione shut the book. "It's too expensive. I can tell just by looking at it it's expensive. I can't accept this." She used all her willpower to shove the book back at Malfoy.

"You're not going to insult me like that, are you, Granger?" Malfoy asked, sounding amused.

"I guess not," Hermione said a little reluctantly though she quickly pulled the book back into her arms. She beamed at the thought of owning _Lylyfr Aneirin_. She couldn't believe it. "Thank you," she said again.

Malfoy shrugged, though he was now smiling rather contentedly.

"I actually got something for you, too," Hermione said cheekily.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Did you?" he asked. "Were you my secret exchangee?"

"No," Hermione admitted. "Was I yours?"

"No," Malfoy replied simply.

"Oh," Hermione said lamely. "Well… I suppose I'll give you your gift now. I was going to give it to you later tonight, but I guess now is just as good." She pulled a small box wrapped in brightly coloured paper out of her handbag and presented it to Malfoy. "Merry Christmas, Malfoy," she said cheerfully.

Malfoy undid the bow and carefully removed the colourful paper, revealing a plain white box. He opened it and laughed when he saw what was inside. "_The Idiot_?" he asked. "Please, Granger, tell me how you really feel about me."

"No, no!" Hermione said, smiling too. "I remembered how much you liked _Crime and Punishment_, so I thought you'd enjoy another book by the same author."

"Ah, yes, Dostoevsky." Malfoy examined the cover. "Love that bloke." Malfoy placed the book on the table by the sofa. "Well, I think we best on our way or we shall be late."

"Ye – Oh, no!" Hermione looked at her watch. 5:10. "We already are!"

x x x

Initially, Malfoy's presence made everyone feel uneasy. Ron, especially, seemed agitated by Malfoy. For reasons unknown to Hermione, he was constantly shooting Malfoy nasty glares. But after the initial shock of him actually showing up passed, everyone seemed to settle down.

Mrs. Weasley had prepared a massive Christmas feast for everyone. The table was laden with wonderful dishes that both smelled and tasted delicious. At the very centre of it was a huge, perfectly roasted turkey, neither undercooked nor dry. The turkey was surrounded by sides like parmesan and rosemary mashed potatoes, cumin flavoured cranberry sauce, a delicious stuffing sprinkled with thyme, corn muffins, shepherd's pie, squash, corn on the cob, and savoury gravy. And for dessert, there was a decadent wild berry trifle – blueberries, raspberries, and blackberries trapped between layers of whipped cream and rum-soaked lady fingers – and an assortment of mince pies. Hermione ate so much she felt she would burst if she ate so much as one more blueberry.

After dinner, Ginny and Harry stayed in the kitchen to help Mrs. Weasley with the dishes, and everyone else went into the living room to chat and digest. Someone had spent a lot of time decorating, and the whole house was a festive affair (much to the dismay of Sirius's screeching mother). But most of the decorations were concentrated in the living room. In the centre of the room was a tall evergreen. Huge, red, blue, purple, green, and gold balls hung heavily from the branches. Whoever decorated it even enchanted the tree so it was lightly dusted with snow. A bright shining star adorned the top. Tinsel, strings of holly berries, and mistletoe decorated the walls, making the usually dreary room bright and cheerful.

"Lovely, isn't it, Granger?"

Hermione knew who it was without even turning to look. "It is," she sighed contentedly. "I do love Christmas."

He leaned in on her shoulder. "Come with me," he whispered. She felt his hand encircle around her wrist, and he led her outside into the backyard.

Hermione had never really been in the back garden of Grimmauld place before. It was overrun with ivy and dead foliage, though now that everything was covered in snow, it didn't look quite as dreary. It was snowing softly now, and the touch of the snowflakes against her skin made her shiver. Hermione wished she'd brought her coat, or at least her mittens. She wasn't quite sure why Malfoy had brought her here.

"Mal – "

"Look," he said softly, gazing up at the sky.

Hermione stared up at the black sky, dotted with little white orbs. "What am I looking for?" she whispered.

"Just wait," Malfoy said. "You'll know it when you see it."

She looked at the sky again, wondering what it could possibly be. Then, she saw it. Three stars swooped across the blackness, leaving a soft trail of stardust behind them. "Shooting stars," she breathed. _Malfoy brought me out here to look at shooting stars?_ she thought, both amused and amazed.

"Make a wish." Looking sideways at her, Malfoy smiled.

"What shall I wish for?" she asked, turning to look at him. Her eyes found his, and for a moment, she could only see him…

"Hermione?" someone yelled out. "Malfoy, what are you doing to her?"

Instinctively, Hermione jumped away from Malfoy. "Ron?"

Ron came running out, towards them. "Hermione, are you all right?"

"Yes, of course I am," Hermione said impatiently. "What did you think Malfoy was going to do? Curse me with half the Order here?"

Ron had the dignity to look embarrassed. He mumbled incoherently. Hermione rolled her eyes. "What is it, Ron?"

"Just looking for you," he continued mumbling. "I couldn't find you so I was looking for you. Come on, Hermione," Ron said, suddenly animated, "let's go back inside." He wrapped an arm around Hermione and shot a glare at Malfoy. Malfoy, however, did not seem to respond in any way.

Back inside, Ron led Hermione to one corner of the room. "Your hands are cold, 'Mione," he said. "Let me get you something to drink." He ran off to the kitchen briefly and returned with a mug of warm spiced cider. "Here, that'll warm you up," he said, smiling. Hermione smiled too, expressing her thanks.

Had Malfoy come back in? Hermione had lost sight of him. Ron was talking to her now, Hermione was sure. She could hear his voice, though she wasn't sure what he was saying. Her eyes kept sweeping the room, wondering where Malfoy had gone.

Then she found him. He was with Tonks. They seemed to be having a quiet conversation - a strange sight indeed. Hermione constantly had to remind herself that the two of them were cousins. _Malfoy seems happy_, Hermione thought to herself. Or content, at the very least. She smiled when she saw Malfoy's choice of beverage which she easily identified by a peak of white in his mug.

"Are you listening, Hermione?"

"What?"

Ron laughed at Hermione's confusion. "Never mind, 'Mione. I know Quidditch doesn't interest you much anyway."

"PRESENT TIME!" someone hollered. Mayhem broke out as everyone scrambled to the presents under the extravagantly decorated evergreen.

"So," Mr. Weasley said after everyone had gathered by the tree, "shall we do this in an orderly fashion? Shall I call out names and hand each person their gift?"

There was a short pause. "NO!" the twins yelled before nosediving into the presents. Mr. Weasley had enough time to look extremely irritated before he was swallowed by a wave of eager people.

"This one is yours, Mum!"

"Fred, give me that!"

"Harry, have you seen mine?"

"No, but I think you're holding mine!"

The sound of ripping paper filled the air as each person furiously unwrapped their presents. Soon, there was a chorus of "oohs" and "aahs" as everyone saw what they had received.

"Look at these boots!" Fred and George said in unison.

"A monthly lunar calendar. How… thoughtful. Thank you, Ron."

"It'll make for easier planning, see?"

"This charm bracelet is gorgeous… thank you, Hermione!" Ginny said, beaming.

Hermione smiled. Her heart felt warmer from all the happiness around her. Looking across the room, she saw Malfoy sitting in a corner, slightly separated from the noisy crowd. He had a thoughtful look on his face as he examined the contents of a box he held in front of him. Hermione had time to briefly wonder what he received before another sight caught her attention.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione could see a very stunned looking Mr. Weasley sitting next to her. His mouth was opening up and down and his eyes were bugged out. He very strongly resembled a goldfish. When Hermione caught sight of what Mr. Weasley was gaping at, her jaw dropped too.

"I can't believe it…" Mr. Weasley said, sounding completely shocked. "How… What… A _conpudor?!"_

"A computer," Hermione corrected.

"I can't believe it!" Mr. Weasley shouted with glee. "I've always wanted one of these! But they're so bloody expensive…" He looked around until he found Harry. "Did you give this to me, Harry? Thank you so much!"

"I'm glad you like it, Mr. Weasley," Harry said, "but I can't take credit for that. Tonks was my secret exchangee."

"Fred or George then," Mr. Weasley said.

"No," the twins both responded at once. They looked at each other.

"I had Ronnie-kins," George said.

"And I had Mummy dearest," Fred chirped.

Mr. Weasley frowned. "But no one else could possibly afford something like this."

"No," Hermione said slowly. "There's one other person."

"Who?" Mr. Weasley asked.

Hermione and Harry exchanged an incredulous look. "Malfoy," they said together in disbelief.

"Incredible," Mr. Weasley said, sounding astounded and awed at the same time. He walked over to Malfoy and tapped him on the shoulder. What Mr. Weasley said to Malfoy Hermione couldn't quite hear, but it appeared that Mr. Weasley was very heartily thanking Malfoy. Malfoy seemed slightly uncomfortable, but he smiled cordially and shook Mr. Weasley's extended hand. Mr. Weasley, in the holiday spirit, pulled in Malfoy and gave him a hearty hug. Hermione laughed at Malfoy's startled expression. He looked very relieved when Mr. Weasley finally let go.

Someone behind her gently called her name. "Hermione?"

Hermione turned around and smiled. "Ron," she said.

Ron grinned and held out a box to her. "Happy Christmas," he said.

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed. She gave him a hug before taking the gift from him. "Thank you," she said smiling. "I have yours as well. It's under the tree… Oh, there it is. It's the one wrapped in blue with the yellow bow." She picked it up and handed it to him. Ron took it and eagerly opened it. Inside the package were two books.

"Oh, wow, Hermione! _Quidditch Through the Ages: Special Edition!_" Ron dropped everything else, sat down, and immediately started leafing through the book. "Oooh, there's illustrations too. The Wronsky Feint! Look, Hermione! Oh, I gotta show Harry…"

"There's another one too," Hermione said. "Ron? The other book?"

"Wha… Oh, right," Ron said, finally tearing his eyes away from _Quidditch Through the Ages: Special Edition!_ He peeked over at the other paperback. "_Great Expectations_. What's that?"

"It's a Muggle book," Hermione said, "and one of my favourites too. It's one of Charles Dickens' greatest works. I know, I _know_, Ron," she said when he gave her a look, "you don't particularly love reading like I do, but I thought perhaps if you read something wonderful you might like it more…"

"Yeah," Ron said quickly. He leaned over and gave Hermione a peck on the cheek. "Thanks for the great gifts, 'Mione. Do you like what I got you?"

"What you got… Oh, yes. It's wonderful. I love it," Hermione said blandly. She thrust the unopened package into her handbag.

Ron beamed at her. "You know, I was thinking…"

"Ron! Ronnie-kins!"

Ron's ears burned red. "GEORGE," he bellowed, "HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU NOT TO CALL ME THAT."

"C'mere and get your present, Ronnie-kins," George taunted in a sing-song voice.

Ron sighed. "I'll be right back, Hermione." He gave her another quick kiss and then ran off to find George.

As Hermione watched him run across the room, she sighed deeply. Ron had taken _Quidditch Through the Ages: Special Edition! _with him, but he had forgotten all about the other half of his gift. Hermione looked down at the forgotten book that lay at her feet.

Maybe it was a big mistake.

x x x

Malfoy and Lupin had left for the cabin earlier than Hermione. Lupin was going to head to Scotland the next day and needed to get to bed, while Malfoy had begun to bore of the Christmas festivities. Hermione, however, had wanted to stay a little longer. So, Lupin had escorted Malfoy back to the cabin while Hermione remained at the Burrow for an hour more. She had sat quietly with Ron for the most part. Finally, it was nearing midnight, and Hermione decided it was time to go.

Hermione Apparated back to the cabin. When she got inside, she saw Malfoy in his night clothes and his green dressing gown, sitting by a glowing fire, reading the book she'd given to him earlier that day.

When he heard her entering, Malfoy looked up from his book. "Lupin already went to bed," he said as a sort of greeting.

"Oh, right," Hermione said. She sat down next to him. "Did you enjoy the party?"

"It was… nice," he responded noncommittally.

"What did you get? For your secret exchange gift, I mean."

Malfoy put down the book, pulled out a lumpy, woolen mass from the other side of the sofa and handed it to her. Hermione grinned at what she saw. It was an infamous Weasley jumper. "Mrs. Weasley knit that for you, didn't she?" Hermione held the jumper at arm's length and examined it. The jumper was a dark green colour with thin silvery grey stripes. "Impeccable work," she said. "And I'm sure the colours suit you."

"Am I supposed to wear it?"

Hermione stared at him blankly. "Are you serious?"

Malfoy returned her stare. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Of course you should wear it! Mrs. Weasley must have spent hours on this."

Malfoy took the jumper back from Hermione, grumbling something about "looking like he shopped in a thrift shop" and "grubby clothes." Hermione shot him a dirty look and he stopped his grumbling. "What did _you_ get?" he asked, sounding slightly peeved.

"Tonks got me this hat." Hermione held up a black fedora trimmed with a wide, black ribbon. "Apparently, it can change the colour of my hair whenever I wear it." Hermione plopped the hat onto her head and instantly her frizzy brown hair became a violent purple. Her face twisted in disgust, and Malfoy started laughing hysterically.

"Granger, you look like a crazy banshee!"

"Oh, shut it, Malfoy!" Hermione started whacking him with the hat.

"Ow!"

"Hah! That's what you get!"

Malfoy rubbed his arm. "Did Weasley like your little gift?"

"Y-Yes," Hermione lied.

"Both parts of it?"

"Of course he did."

Malfoy gave Hermione that piercing look that Hermione hated so much. It was like he could see right through her. "I told you the Muggle book was a mistake." Seeing Hermione's downcast face, Malfoy sighed. "Well, what did _he_ get you?"

"I don't know," Hermione said in a small, dejected voice.

"You don't know," Malfoy repeated, punctuating each word. "Why ever not? He must have bought you something, even if he had to use all his life savings."

"He did get me something," Hermione replied defensively. "I just… haven't opened it yet."

"Well where is it?" Malfoy demanded. "Bring it out and let's open it now."

Hermione pulled out the thin rectangular package from her handbag. Slowly, she undid the wrapping paper, revealing a dark blue velvet box. It could mean only one thing. Hermione popped open the lid and sitting in the plush setting was a chunky golden necklace, dotted with sparkling crystals. It was… bright. Hermione lifted it out and held it up to the light.

"Interesting," Malfoy drawled. "Weasley trying to be romantic, I think."

"I like it."

"It looks like a dog collar."

"It does not!" she snapped back. Rebelliously, Hermione undid the clasp and placed the necklace around her neck. It felt heavy.

"If you insist, Granger," Malfoy said. "I'm sure Weasley will be pleased that you _like _it. Just as I'm sure he _liked _the gift you gave him."

"What do you mean by that, Malfoy?"

"You know what I mean."

There was an uneasy silence. "So Mr. Weasley was your secret exchangee," Hermione said, trying to change the focus of the conversation and to break the tension. "That explains all the questions about Muggle technology you asked me. I was starting to wonder."

Though she could tell he knew what she was trying to do, he did not protest. Malfoy merely smirked in response. "I'm sly, aren't I? You forget that I'm a Slytherin."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "No, oh mighty Prince of Slytherin, I did not forget. Who could forget how much of a snake you are?" Malfoy chuckled softly, nodding. He seemed rather pleased with himself. Hermione smiled too, but her expression quickly turned serious. "That computer must have cost a lot of money. It was a very nice one. I checked out all the features. It must have cost a lot."

He shrugged. "That's nothing," Malfoy said with a wave of his hand. "I have plenty more where that came from. He liked it, didn't he? I thought that was what mattered."

"Well," Hermione said, slightly flustered, "no, the saying goes it's the thought that counts. But I know what you mean."

"Right then," Malfoy said. "So he liked it. I put thought into it. What's the problem?"

"The problem is… well there are lots of problems!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Such as?"

"It's so expensive!"

"Granger, I think I've already made it clear that with me, _money is not an issue_. What's the matter with you? You're not usually this dense. I think Weasley is rubbing off on you."

Hermione continued on. "And dangerous!" She shot him a bit of a glare. "When and how did you get the computer?"

"Once, when you went off to see Weasley, Lupin was here and I convinced him I wanted to see Muggle London," Malfoy said lazily. He crossed his arms behind his head. "My first time, too."

Hermione stared blankly at him. "Who are you, and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?"

"What?" Malfoy turned and looked at Hermione questioningly.

"First Muggle books, and now going to Muggle London and buying Muggle technology for a Muggle lover?" Hermione was gaping at Malfoy. Her mouth shut and her eyes narrowed. "And why such a nice gift for Mr. Weasley? You used to hate him and his entire family. You never let up a chance to rag on Ron."

"Weasley, I still loathe. The rest are… all right," he conceded reluctantly.

"But I thought your families hated each other."

Malfoy glowered at her. "Right, Granger," he said coldly. "Our _families_. In case you've forgotten, I have no family now."

"Oh." Hermione remained silent for a while. Malfoy suddenly looked very lost and alone, though she knew he would never lower himself to admit it. Of course he felt alone. Malfoy was trapped between two worlds, not truly belonging to either. He had left the dark to join the light. The dark side saw him as a traitor, and the light still saw him as part of the dark side. _I have no family now_. Malfoy's hollow words echoed in her head.

Hermione smiled. She reached over and gently took his hand into hers.

Malfoy gave her a confused stare. "What the hell are you doing, Granger?"

"You do," she said.

"I do," Malfoy repeated. "I do what?"

"Have a family," Hermione explained. She used her other hand to tilt his face so she could look at him straight in the eyes. "You have me."

He looked at her with an intense stare, and Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat. "Hermione," he said thickly. "I…"

"What?" she asked quietly, almost afraid of what he might say.

Malfoy's eyes swept over her face, and Hermione felt an odd turning sensation in her stomach. His eyes finally rested on the necklace around her neck.

"Draco?"

Malfoy drew back, removing his hand from hers and tearing away from her touch. "Thank you," he said a little stiffly. "It's late now, and tomorrow, you, Potter, and Weasley have a lot of work to do. I shall not keep you any longer." He rose up and headed for the bathroom.

"Malfoy!" she yelled. But he ignored her and slammed the door behind him.

Hermione stared at the shut door. That wasn't what he had meant to say. She was sure of it. _Or maybe it wasn't what you wanted him to say_, that annoying nasty voice in the back of her head taunted. _Maybe you wanted him to say the things you're afraid to admit yourself…_

"Shut up," Hermione said crossly. She grabbed a pillow and angrily threw it at the wall.

"Hermione?"

Hermione jumped a foot. "Oh, Remus, it's you!"

Lupin nodded and smiled. "I was thirsty, so I decided to go get a drink. Are you having a fight with that pillow?"

"No, of course not," Hermione said, flushing.

"Are you having a fight with someone else?" Lupin gave her a knowing look.

"Ron and I are fine," Hermione mumbled.

Lupin chuckled softly. "Of course. But I didn't mean Ron."

"Who then?" Hermione turned around to look at him. Lupin jerked his head over to the direction of the bathroom. "_Malfoy_?!"

"Truthfully, it was the ruckus you two made that woke me up."

"Oh, Remus, I'm sorry!"

Lupin waved a hand. "No, it's quite fine. So was I right? Did you two have a row?"

"A row?" Hermione repeated. "No, no, not at all."

"What then? You don't look very happy, and it's Christmas." Lupin sat down next to her where Malfoy had previously been sitting.

"It's nothing…" Hermione started, but Lupin gave her a look. "Nothing I can explain, anyway," she mumbled.

Lupin sighed. "Hermione, I know I'm not an expert on relationships by any means…" A pained expression crossed his face. Hermione knew he was thinking of Tonks. "But I do know a few things about people." Hermione looked blankly at Lupin who smiled in response. "I understand, Hermione, that perhaps I'm not your ideal confidant, but you may talk to me if you'd like."

"That's very kind of you, Remus," Hermione said, "but there really is nothing to say."

"Are you sure?"

Hermione shrugged.

"I understand. Perhaps you would find Tonks or Ginny a more suitable confidant." Lupin nodded. "At any rate, do let me say this – people can change. People can do things we don't expect them to, both good and bad." His smile became slightly twisted. "I learned that the hard way." Lupin's gaze turned toward the fire.

"Remus, I'm so sorry…"

"And sometimes we find that we never truly knew people at all, that what we first thought of them isn't really true. That, perhaps, is the most difficult thing to accept."

"What do you mean, Remus?"

"Think about it, Hermione," Lupin said. "Perhaps it is not my place…" He stopped. Clearly he was having second thoughts about what he was about to say.

"Go ahead," Hermione encouraged.

"Don't feel an obligation to be with someone unless it is what you want," Lupin finally said. "And remember this: love knows no boundaries. If someone like Tonks can love an old werewolf like me…" Lupin smiled softly. "Then anything is possible." He nodded. "Well," Lupin said, rising to his feet, "that's that then. It's rather late, and we both have things to do tomorrow, so we better both be sleeping. Are you sure you wouldn't rather sleep in the bedroom?"

Hermione hesitated. On one hand, sleeping in the bedroom would mean avoiding Malfoy for the night. However, she knew how tired Lupin was as the full moon was only two nights before and tomorrow he had such an awful journey ahead of him… "No, it's quite all right, Remus, but thank you. I'm sure I'll be fine out here."

"All right then," Lupin said. The sound of a creaking door caught his attention. "Ah, Draco. I was just getting a glass of water. Well, I shall return to bed now. Good night, Hermione. Good night, Draco."

"Good night," Hermione replied. Malfoy nodded.

After Lupin was back in his room, Malfoy wordlessly walked over to his conjured up bed and got in, pulling the sheets over his body.

"Malfoy…" Hermione said so quietly she barely heard her own voice. Malfoy laid his head down on the pillow and turned over a few times. "Draco."

He turned around to face her. "What, Granger?" he asked, sounding very restrained.

Hermione walked over to where he was laying down. Standing by his bed, she fiddled with her fingers. "Look, I…"

"You what?"

"Will you stop that?" she snapped. "I'm trying to talk."

"Well, _I'm_ trying to sleep here, so if you aren't going to say whatever the hell it is you want to say, then please just let me have some peace."

"Why are you so bloody insufferable?" Hermione yelled.

Malfoy finally sat up. "_I'm_ insufferable?" He laughed. "I'm not the one who is in utter denial about her relationship with someone who obviously doesn't understand her."

"And I suppose _you_ think you understand me?"

"I don't think you understand yourself," Malfoy said.

Hermione opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She tried again. Nothing, still.

Malfoy sighed. "Look, Granger, it's late. Maybe this isn't the best time to talk about it. Why don't you just go to bed and…"

"No."

"No?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "So now you're calling the shots?"

"What were you going to say earlier?" When he did nothing but stare at her, she elaborated. "Earlier, before you went to the bathroom."

He looked away. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You do," Hermione said.

"Look, it was nothing, Granger. Something stupid popped into my head, and I nearly made the mistake of acting out on it, all right? Let's just forget it happened."

Hermione crossed her arms. "Who's in denial now?" she asked mockingly. This seemed to push him over the edge.

"Do you _think_," he seethed, "that I enjoy this? That somehow, I enjoy torturing myself every day? Being here, always bloody around you, always thinking about you? Do you really think I fancy feeling these things for you?" He threw his arms up in exasperation. "Great. Now I've done and said it. You and Weasley can have a good laugh over it, I'm sure. Now, Granger, if you could just let me and my denial go to sleep, I would appreciate it." He turned back to go to sleep.

"Malfoy, don't."

He ignored her.

"Draco, please," Hermione tried. When he still remained silent, Hermione spoke. "There are things… You're right. Maybe I am in denial. But I'm scared, Draco…"

He finally sat up. Hermione took a deep breath and continued. "I have been ever since I realised that maybe… maybe I didn't really have you figured out like I thought I had. Ever since that day at Dumbledore's tomb, I knew… and every day I only learned more. Every day that I got closer to you… the more I cared for you, the more scared I was. And when I realised that maybe I…" Her heart was pounding in her ears. "That maybe I cared for you more than I knew…"

Malfoy's grey eyes seemed to bore into her as if he understood everything she was thinking and felt everything she was feeling too. His gaze was fixed intently upon her face. Without breaking eye contact, Malfoy rose out of bed. Again, his gaze lowered to her neck, and Hermione realised what he was looking at. Slowly, she undid the clasp and dropped the necklace to the floor. He leaned in closer. She could feel his breath on her skin.

"Draco," she whispered. "I… I don't know…"

Then, without warning, Malfoy leaned in and touched his lips to hers. Hermione felt all her doubts and inhibitions vanish as he gently pulled her in closer to him. She didn't resist. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body to his.

Finally, Malfoy broke away, breathing audibly. Hermione, too, was struggling to catch her breath.

"Hermione…"

"Don't." Hermione held up a hand to his mouth, stopping him from speaking. "Don't say anything." Malfoy nodded. "Come here," she said, taking him by the hand. Hermione walked over to the sofa and the two of them sat down. "Let's just…"

"Yeah," Malfoy said.

Hermione bit her lip. "We can't… I can't… not yet."

He remained quiet, staring ahead.

"But that's tomorrow," Hermione whispered. "There's still tonight."

Malfoy didn't respond. Hermione laid her head on his shoulder, and slowly, he wrapped an arm around her. Together, they sat there, watching as the fire slowly died out.

And Hermione knew. She knew what she'd been trying to fight so hard, trying to see what she wanted and to pretend that her fantasy was reality. She could finally put together in her mind what her heart had known all along.

She loved him.

* * *

**AN: **Yeeeeeees, it finally happened. A kiss! Her revelation! I hope it didn't seem to rushed... my beta **ideabunny** told me to get a move on with these memories. I had originally meant for what happened in this one memory to have taken place in two separate ones. That's why it's amazingly long.I'm still a bit unsure, but I think it was okay. Just not exactly how I might have liked it, that's all.

Whee. By the way, I really love Christmas, in case you couldn't tell.

Next update should be soon. Promise.


	16. Don't Stand So Close to Me

**AN: **I wasn't going to update now, initially, but after realising I'd be out of commission for the next few days, I thought it'd be only fair.

While I'm sure you were all anxious to discover what happens in the present between our two heroes, I hope you enjoyed that voyage into the past. I have really enjoyed writing the memories, but I think the Christmas one was by far my favourite. Like I said before, Christmas is one of my favourite times of the year (my birthday, coincidentally, is two days before it), and also, times were lighter, despite the war for Draco, especially.

By the way, I love reading all your speculation in the comments. I love reading what you think about it, so if you haven't already, please leave a comment! I swear, it really helps in the writing and development of this story...

Thanks to reviewers **Avanell, cmtaylor531, lostxatx7thxsea, Mela, Hermione09Weasley, xDracoBabeyx, Emilee, adrianna100, tankbbg, ShatteredTruth, confusednikki24-7, **and** Lina.**

To those who really wanted to read about the present... well, here you are.**  
**

* * *

**Stand and Watch It Burn**

**XVI. Don't Stand So Close to Me**

There was a very pregnant pause.

If it weren't the fact Draco felt rooted to the ground beneath him, he would have sworn that it had completely vanished. He was suspended – in space, in time. Had time _stopped?_ Nothing was moving, and yet everything was spinning. Everything in his peripheral vision was starting to blur. He suddenly felt acutely aware of the silence as he could only hear the sound of his heartbeat, racing. The silence was completely deafening.

Never had he dreamed something like this would happen… that she could be _here, _speaking to him. Of course, he had also never thought he could see her again and yesterday…Still, never had he dreamed she could come back _here_. Never had he dreamed that she would come looking for him. Never had he allowed himself to.

But here she was, standing in this very room once more, as she once did three years ago, looking at him beseechingly with her warm and beautiful brown eyes as if she cared. Here she was, in front of him, not moving. Was she even breathing? Was she real? Was _this_ real? Or was this a dream? She couldn't possibly be here. Maybe he was really still trapped in Azkaban, and he'd finally lost it. Maybe this was some mad delusion, some crazed illusion…? There wasn't any way… but here she was…

Something slipped out of his hand and made a soft thud on the floor. The movement and sound of the flower falling pulled Draco out of his daze and finally his brain seemed to be functioning again. And though he still couldn't quite think clearly, he knew he couldn't stay. Abruptly, he spun on one foot and left without saying a single word.

x x x

Hermione saw his grey robes swirl behind him as he turned to go.

"Wait… Draco!" She ran around the chair and toward the door. Hermione saw him at the end of the hallway, entering the main lobby, and he was still walking away with great haste.

"Hetty, show our guest out," she heard him say, his words echoing in the large, hollow room.

"No, wait!" Hermione called out, running past the house elf and after him. But he didn't stop. He was heading up the stairs, not even bothering to look back. _To his room_, Hermione remembered. "Draco… Draco, I _remember_."

He had nearly made it all the way up before he stopped. He seemed to be taking very deep breaths.

"Whatever it is you think you remember, Granger," he said tightly, "is nothing but a strange fantasy that your oversized brain has invented. I am most certain of this. Now, Granger, if you would kindly stop bothering about such nonsense, I would greatly appreciate it. Your presence here is nothing short of irritating to me. So please leave before I have you thrown out."

Hermione walked to the foot of the stairs. His words had fallen on deaf ears. She was too busy looking at him – at the back of his head, at the lines his neck and shoulders made, at the way his hands were by his side, at the way he stood there. She remembered. Yes, it was clear to her now. She never was surer of anything. Looking at him now, she could feel something returning to her. The void in her heart was now gone.

"Why are you lying?" she asked.

His hands became fists. "I don't know what you're talking about, Granger," he said through gritted teeth. "I have already told you twice. There is _nothing_…"

"You're lying again," Hermione said. "I can tell." She walked up the stairs and stood right behind him.

"Leave," he said one more time, though it was more of a plea than a demand. "Leave me…"

"I can't," she whispered. "Draco…" Hermione reached out and touched his shoulder. "Draco, look at me."

He remained still.

"If you are so sure that what I think I remember is merely a fantasy, then turn around and look at me and tell me so," Hermione said defiantly. "Tell me that you weren't part of the Order. Tell me that you didn't help us fight against Lord Voldemort. Tell me that you didn't love me…"

He turned around. His face was completely blank, and his eyes were focused on something just past her. "Fine," he said shortly. "If that's what it takes to be rid of you. I wasn't part of the Order. I was a Death Eater till the end, when they threw me into Azkaban." He stepped backwards, up the stairs, and away from her touch. "Are you satisfied now? Will you leave?"

Hermione took another step up so she was right in front of him. "You didn't say the last part."

He was quiet. "Please go," he said. "Go home to your husband and your son. There is nothing for you here."

"I can't," Hermione replied. "Draco, I… please look at me. I _remember_, Draco, I do…"

"You don't," he said coldly. "Or you wouldn't be here…"

"I do!" she insisted. "Draco, I remember… the cabin, Dumbledore's tomb, the books, Christmas, the gardens, being here with you… I remember."

Finally, he did as she had requested earlier. His grey eyes looked straight into hers. For what must have been the tenth time today, her heart stopped.

"Well, then," he said, "what do you want?"

Hermione faltered a bit. "I… I don't know."

"You don't know," he repeated, his eyes once again moving past her. He laughed softly. "It's been three years, Granger. A lot has changed. You can't expect…"

"You don't love me then?" Hermione asked, moving even closer to him. "Go on. Say it. Say you don't love me still."

"Are you under some silly notion that perhaps we were in _love_?" he sneered. "Granger, you were always Weasley's girl and Potter's best friend… and I… I am nothing more than a useless, heartless, backstabbing bastard. Remember? You said so yourself." He gave her a resolute look. "Go back to Weasley. Go home." He turned and walked to the top of the stairs.

"Why do you keep pushing me away?" Hermione asked. He kept walking. She ran up the stairs after him. "Draco…" She grabbed his arm, stopping him from moving any further. "Three years ago, we _were_ in love. I know we were. But then something… something happened… I don't know what…" Hermione strained trying to remember. Failing to do so, she shook her head and continued speaking. "But it doesn't matter. It doesn't change the fact that before then I loved _you_, not Ron. Shortly after New Year's Day, I broke up with Ron, remember? I left him because of you."

She saw him close his eyes and felt his arm tense slightly in her hand.

"You're right. I don't know what I want and I don't know what I should do. I only know that, three years ago, I fell in love with you, and that I still could…"

He took a deep, unsteady breath. "But Weasley… Aiden…"

Hermione hesitated. _Of course_. She had nearly forgotten…

"So caught up in the excitement that you almost forgot? See, Granger," he murmured, "perhaps we were in love… three years ago. But like I said, a lot has changed. You're married and have a son. Tell me this, Granger – do you love Weasley still?"

"He lied to me."

"But do you love him?"

Hermione couldn't answer, not because she didn't know, but because she didn't want to hear her answer aloud.

He understood her silence perfectly, as he always did. "Three years ago, you did leave Weasley… but that was three years ago," he said softly. "I know you. You wouldn't be able to do that again. Not now."

Still, Hermione wanted… _needed_ to know. "Do you love me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He moved around slowly, and Hermione could see his face, his eyes… filled with loathing… and pain. "What does it matter?" He pulled his arm away and continued walking down the hall.

Hermione watched him go, unsure and uncertain.

x x x

"So what are you going to do?"

Hermione had just spent the last hour explaining her second encounter with Draco Malfoy to Olivia. Olivia had listened intently, not saying a single word until Hermione had finished speaking, and when she did, she asked the very same question Hermione had been constantly asking herself: what _was_ she going to do?

"I don't know," Hermione admitted, slumping into Olivia's sofa. "It's just…" She fell into silence.

Olivia watched her for a moment before speaking. "At least now you know," Olivia said quietly. "You know what everyone's been hiding from you."

"Somehow, it's not enough," Hermione replied flatly.

"What would have been, though? Were you expecting that perhaps Malfoy would suddenly declare his love for you right then and there? Not that I think Malfoy's particularly smart by any stretch of the imagination but he's right, isn't he? It's been three years…"

"But it also hasn't," Hermione said.

Olivia stared. "How hasn't it been three years?"

"I…" Hermione stopped to gather her thoughts. "I haven't _lived_ with those memories for three years. To me it almost feels like it all just happened yesterday… Like somehow I'm living two entirely separate timelines. There's the Hermione who married Ron Weasley and had his son but then there's the Hermione who loves… _loved_ Draco Malfoy," Hermione quickly corrected herself.

But her slip hadn't gone by unnoticed. Olivia raised an eyebrow. "Loves?"

"Loved. Past tense," Hermione said.

"No, that is not what you said. Is that why you're so upset, Hermione?" Olivia gave Hermione a searching look. "Do you still love him?"

"I… I… No, it's not possible, is it?" Hermione looked desperately at Olivia. "I can't love him, can I? I love Ron. I'm _married_. I haven't seen him three years. How could I love him? It doesn't make sense. It's not possible… not logical… is it?"

"Love _isn't_ logical, Hermione. If it were, it wouldn't be so hard."

"Well, it should be."

"But unfortunately, it isn't." Olivia sighed. "Look, Hermione, I'm not forcing you to say or admit anything you don't want to, but I think you know rather well that denial is going to help you any."

"It doesn't matter," Hermione said. "He was right."

"No, Hermione, he was right that a lot of things have changed, but it does matter. If you love him then…"

Hermione shook her head. "Then what, Olivia? I'm married. I have a _son_. I can't… There's nothing…"

Olivia was silent for a while. "So that's that, then? You're not going to do anything about it? You've come this far and done so much to learn what it is you've been missing all these years, rediscover a part of you, and then you finally find it… Hermione, are you really just going to let it go? After all of that?"

"What would _you_ do, Olivia?"

Olivia blinked. "I…" She smiled sadly. "You've made your point. But I _still_ don't think you should do nothing about it. There must be something you can do."

"Perhaps," Hermione said doubtfully. She shook her head. "I don't know, Olivia… it's just too much. I can't handle it. I don't _want_ to handle it. I'm so confused and lost, and absolutely none of this makes any logical sense at all. I wish I knew what to do… about Malfoy… about Ron… about all of this… but I have no idea and I'm so terribly frightened…"

Olivia wrapped an arm around Hermione and gave her a comforting squeeze. "Maybe it's best to leave this alone for a while," she said. "You've been through so much in the last few days… it'll be good for you. Try to relax and clear your mind a bit, and maybe in a few days, or a few weeks… when you've distanced yourself from it… maybe you'll be able to figure out this whole situation better."

"Sure," Hermione said half-heartedly.

"You will," Olivia said firmly. "You just have to believe… Remember, I have full faith in you, Hermione. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I know you'll do what's right."

Hermione looked at Olivia appreciatively. "Thank you… I hope you're right."

x x x

"Draco?"

Narcissa wandered through the hallways, wondering where her son was. She hadn't seen him all day. Though she and Draco did not spend that much time out of the day with each other, they always had their afternoon tea together. Whenever they were both in the manor, it went without saying: the two would have their afternoon tea together. Narcissa had spent the morning shopping and rushed home just in time for their afternoon tea. She had waited for almost half an hour before she realised that her son was not coming. It perplexed her. It was not at all like Draco to not be there.

She couldn't find him. "Milly?"

There was a crack. "Yes, Mistress?"

"Do you know where the young master is?"

Milly shook her head. "Milly has not seen the young master since this afternoon, after his guest came."

"A guest?" Narcissa asked. "Who was it?"

"I'm not sure, Mistress, Milly did not see."

"Why didn't you see? Isn't it your job to know everything that's going on in this household? I'm disappointed in you, Milly."

Milly cowered. "Sorry, Mistress! Milly is sorry!"

Narcissa looked down coldly at the house elf. "Words mean little, but I accept your apology. Do not let it happen again."

"Thank you, Mistress! Mistress is too kind, too generous…"

"Enough." Narcissa waved her hand, cutting off the house elf's rambling. "Go start dinner."

Milly nodded mutely and disappeared with a loud crack.

"Hetty!"

Another loud crack and the other house elf stood in front of Narcissa, looking slightly perturbed. "Yes, Mistress?"

"Draco was not at afternoon tea today," Narcissa informed the elf. "Do you know where he might have been?"

Hetty's perturbed look evolved to one of anguish. "Young master has locked himself in his room," she said, shaking.

"What?" Narcissa exclaimed. "Whatever _for_?"

"Hetty doesn't know," the elf practically wailed. "Young master won't let Hetty in. Hetty has tried… but sir keeps ordering her to leave. Young master hasn't eaten all day and Hetty is worried, Mistress. Hetty has tried to give him food, but he won't eat…"

Narcissa did a little bit of simple deductive reasoning. "This doesn't have anything to do with Draco's guest today, does it?" The elf was still sobbing. "Who was it, Hetty?"

"It was… young… young miss, Mistress," the elf blubbered.

"Young miss?" Narcissa racked her brain for girls that might fit Hetty's very vague description. Of course, Draco having female visitors hardly surprised her – he was so utterly handsome, charming and rich, after all – but all the girls Draco had been acquainted with that Narcissa could remember were either married or engaged and very unlikely to have come alone. "What did this girl look like, Hetty?"

The elf, now a little more controlled, sniffed loudly. "Young miss is a little shorter than Mistress. Young miss also has brown hair and brown eyes."

Narcissa frowned. That description didn't help much. "I don't remember such a girl, Hetty. But you do. Has she visited the manor before?"

"Yes, with young master," Hetty said. "Three years ago. Mistress does not remember because Mistress was away at Mistress's sister's house."

_Three years ago?_ Narcissa felt a cold hand grip her chest. "Did this girl have ridiculously bushy hair?" she asked icily.

Hetty thought for a bit. "Hetty thinks so…"

"The nerve," Narcissa snarled under her breath. Returning her attention to the house elf, Narcissa said, "Hetty, go to the kitchen and help Milly with dinner preparations. I will be going to speak with the young master."

"But young master has…"

"Go."

A crack. Hetty was gone. Narcissa looked up the stairway. _Draco_.

Three years ago, Narcissa had heard some terrible rumours about her son. Rumours that he had become involved with a girl… Narcissa had dismissed them as rumours nearly trying to tarnish her son's reputation. But now… Were they true then? She wondered. Narcissa climbed the stairs and walked to the doorway of her son's bedroom.

Narcissa knocked. "Draco?"

No response.

"Draco, if you do not open this door, I shall force my way in using whatever hex I deem worthy. If you put any value on your room and your belongings at all, you shall open this door now."

After a brief moment, the door clicked open.

Draco was sitting by the window in his room, looking outside. He was still wearing those dreadfully plain and ugly grey robes, Narcissa noted. They were absolutely covered in dirt. He had been wasting more time in those gardens, no doubt. In his hand, he held a single white flower which he gently stroked with his fingers. "What do you want?" he asked quietly.

"It's nearly time for dinner."

He didn't respond. He merely let his head drop against the glass of the window.

"Did you hear me?"

"I'm not hungry."

"I do not care. It is dinner time. I expect you to change and be downstairs at the dining table. Draco, you are not an eight-year-old boy that I should constantly watch after. You're twenty-two years old and head of this house now. I should not have to remind you of your duties. Wash up and change into appropriate clothing."

"No."

Narcissa felt her temper rising. "Draco, if this is because of some filthy, dirty _Mudbl_ – "

Draco rose up. "Don't you dare call her that," he said, his voice deadly low. "Don't you dare."

"The rumours are true then?" Narcissa glared at her son, daring him to cross her. "Are they, Draco? That Bella, Greyback, and Augustus found you in bed with her? Potter's friend? That Granger girl?" Draco didn't meet her eyes. He stared intently at the floor, his eyes bright. Narcissa shook her head in anger and disbelief. "I can't believe this, Draco… after everything your father and I have given you… after all we have _taught_ you…"

"Taught me?" Draco asked, laughing mockingly. "Good load it's done, hasn't it? Look where Father is now. In Azkaban. Rotting away."

"You will not speak of your father like that!" Narcissa yelled. "As if joining the other side has done you a lot of good, Draco? They threw you in Azkaban all the same. Or have you forgotten the last three years? The last three years you were imprisoned in Azkaban, forced to suffer? Because I haven't. For three years, I believed my husband and my son gone to me forever… all thanks to those who claim to have saved the world. I believed that I had lost everything."

"If it weren't for Lestrange, Rookwood, and that rabid werewolf, I…"

"If you hadn't crossed over, you wouldn't have been in that position in the first place!"

Draco looked at his mother with fury. "That's it, then? You blame me? For betraying _you_ and _Father_ and all your beliefs…"

"No!" Narcissa exclaimed, walking toward her son, holding her arms open. Draco, however, moved away. "Never, my son. Never. It was the Order who called you a traitor…"

"I don't understand you, Mother," Draco cut in, avoiding his mother's embrace. "Whose side were you on? The Order's? The Dark Lord's?"

"Neither." Narcissa crossed her arms and looked away. "Neither," she repeated. "Only my family… that is all that matters to me." Narcissa cradled her son's face in her hand. "My husband and son, on two separate sides… both abandoned by those they were loyal to…"

Draco twitched. Narcissa looked at her son… her only son. "Draco, please… You're all I have left now…"

"Mother, don't." He brushed her hand away.

"Why did she come?" Narcissa asked, her voice verging on hysterical. "What did she want? Why was she here?"

"Mother," Draco said warningly.

"Well, Draco? Are you going to explain to me why that filth was in my house?" Narcissa stared at her son who was so carelessly ignoring her. "What did she want? To tear you down some more? To destroy what's left of you?"

"What do you want from me, Mother?" Draco asked tiredly.

"Stay away from them… from _her_," Narcissa pleaded, nearing tears. "Please, Draco… haven't they hurt us enough? Haven't they damaged you enough?" She walked up to her son and threw desperate arms around him. "Please, Draco… I can't lose you… not again… Promise me you will stay away from them. Promise me you won't see _her_ again…" Narcissa broke down.

Instead of replying, Draco put his arms around his weeping mother, effectively calming her. Narcissa's breathing slowed until it was normal again.

When Draco released her, Narcissa noticed an odd look on his face. "I'm sorry I missed tea today, Mother," he said tersely. "I will change and be down for dinner shortly."

"Draco…"

"I need to change, Mother," Draco continued. "So, if you could please leave and allow me to clean up and change my robes…"

"But…" she started to protest. She stopped herself, thinking it better not to say any more. Narcissa sighed. "Of course," she whispered. "I will see you downstairs then."

"Please close the door on your way out."

Narcissa left the room and shut the door quietly. She stood outside, staring fiercely at the door as if somehow, if she stared hard enough, it could give her all the answers she was searching for… all the answers Draco had failed… _refused_ to give her.

Communication had never been Draco's strong suit. At least, not about feelings or emotions. They were never something much discussed or really, encouraged at all. Draco always managed to hide them very well, learning from his father and mother at a young age to put such frivolous things aside. But perhaps, three years ago, something changed… Narcissa could see the pain on her son's face. He had tried to hide it from her, she was sure, but it was written so clearly in his eyes, it was impossible to miss. And Narcissa recognized it. It was the pain of losing of something… or _someone_ that he loved.

It was the pain of feeling empty inside.

Narcissa brushed her hand against the railing of the swirling staircase. Slowly, she walked down the stairs, toward the family dining room. If only there were more she could do for Draco… for her son. But she knew there was nothing more she could do or say.

* * *

**AN: **Oooh. Well, for those of you who were wanting a tearful reunion between Draco and Hermione, I hope you weren't too disappointed. Don't worry; this isn't the last time they will meet. But you didn't expect Draco to run to her with open arms right away, did you?

I thorougly enjoyed writing the last scene between Draco and Narcissa. It's perhaps one of my favourites so far.

I am rather struggling with the next chapter, so it may be a while before it comes out... but something tells me that reviews would help inspire me a bit. Hint hint.


	17. All Thought of Right or Wrong

**AN: **Yeah, it's taken a long time. I was stuck, and really I am still stuck. But I think this chapter managed to write itself when I wasn't looking. I am still beta-less (no idea where she ran off to, really) so I apologise for any inconsistencies and/or typos.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I read them all and every single one warms my heart with joy and fuzzles.

* * *

**  
Stand and Watch It Burn**

**XVII. All Thought of Right or Wrong**

"Nothing too extravagant. You know he wouldn't like that."

"A cake, though. Molly said she would take care it."

"Yes, Mum did mention that. Oh, I hope it's nothing _too_ ridiculous. You know how Mum gets carried away with things like that."

"How about appetizers? Who's doing that?"

"I am."

"Are you sure, Gin? On top of all the other things you're doing?"

"Well, she's bestowed upon me the glorious task of decorating."

"Oh dear Merlin, Ginny, what were you thinking?"

"I was thinking Tonks would make our living room look very festive and colourful… and also that it'd be one less thing for me to do."

Hermione, Tonks, and Ginny were all sitting around Hermione's kitchen table. In front of Hermione were several pieces of parchment where she had been taking notes and jotting random things down. Tonks and Ginny watched Hermione's furious note-taking with amusement while making more suggestions for her.

July was coming to a close. Strange, really, that how little time had really passed since Hermione had discovered what had happened three years ago. It seemed like it had all happened a lifetime ago. And perhaps it had.

With Olivia's urging, Hermione had left the issue undisturbed for a while, but perhaps not with the same intentions as Olivia. It wasn't at all difficult for Hermione to not fret about it. Before, it had burdened her to withhold something from her husband and friends… because she thought about it. Hermione's solution was to not think about Draco Malfoy at all. Anytime he somehow entered her mind, she would determinedly focus on something else. Despite Olivia's warning about avoiding denial, Hermione was slipping very close to it. It was easier, she found. And her superficial hope was that, in time, she would forget such a silly thing had ever transpired.

Still, there was something inside of her that screamed out against it all. It screamed that it wasn't right, that she was living a lie and ignoring her true feelings and her heart, something she swore she'd never do. It screamed that she needed to see Malfoy and talk to him again.

Hermione quickly found that throwing herself back into the normal rhythms of her life suppressed those screams rather well. And though she could still hear the faint echoes of it at times, especially late at night, for the most part, she was blissfully free from them.

So here she was, with Tonks and Ginny, sitting at her kitchen table with several pieces of parchment full of notes in front of her, planning Harry's surprise birthday party. It gave her something to think about that wasn't Draco Malfoy's haunting, deep, grey eyes.

"Who else should we invite?" Hermione held up the guest list.

"Let me see that," Ginny said, snatching the parchment. She rolled her eyes. "Hermione, this list is pathetic."

"Who's on it?" Tonks took a peek. "Hermione. Really?"

"What?" Hermione asked weakly.

"It lists _Harry Potter_ as the first and only guest. Are you serious, Hermione?" Ginny sniggered.

"That's why I was asking for your input!" Hermione crossed her arms. "Now, I know I'm planning this and all, but I can't be expected to do everything."

"May I remind you this was _your_ idea?" Ginny asked.

Tonks sighed. "All right, children, enough bickering. Can we just get a start on who to invite?"

"Well the obvious ones not standing… Neville. Dean. Luna." Ginny pointed on her fingers as she listed each name. "Lavender, maybe?"

"Kingsley'd like to come, I'm sure," Tonks added.

Ginny nodded. "I think that pretty much sums it up."

Hermione frowned. "Such a short list."

"As if Harry would want a big party? I think he's going to kill us for even having this party. Imagine if we invited half the Ministry. Besides, with my family and all the kids, that's more than a party," Ginny added.

"All right," Hermione grumbled. She knew Ginny was right, but that didn't stop her from _wanting_ to invite half the Ministry. She rolled up the parchment with the guest list on it. "I'll send out invites soon."

"Have you told Ron yet?"

"About this?" Hermione gestured at the notes.

Ginny nodded. "Have you?"

"Not yet."

"_Good_." Ginny laughed. "I love that brother of mine, but honestly? The later he finds out the better. You better keep this whole thing a secret from him."

Hermione stiffened at Ginny's words. "Of course," she said rigidly.

x x x

_Knockknockknock._

"Come in."

Ron popped his head in. He was grinning. "Morning, Harry."

Harry smiled back. "Hey, Ron."

"Happy birthday, mate."

"Thanks."

"So," Ron said, plopping down into a chair, "what do you have planned for today?"

"I think Ginny wants me to go over to the Burrow after work. Dinner, or something."

"Ah, yes," Ron said, nodding sagely. He sighed dramatically. "I suppose the desires of one's fiancée supersedes that of his best friend." He leaned in. "Do you think we could sneak in a few birthday drinks though? Before you go?"

Harry grinned. "I think we can work something out after work."

"Brilliant," Ron said. "I'm supposed to head to the Burrow as well, so we can both Apparate there after we get some firewhiskey into our systems. I'll see you after work, then?"

Harry nodded. "I'll see you in a bit."

Shortly after Ron left, there was another knocking at his door.

"Yeah," Harry said, not looking up from the papers he was reading.

It was Kingsley. "Harry, we have some new info on Malfoy."

"Which one?"

Kingsley blinked. "Which one? Oh, right. Lucius – Lucius Malfoy."

"Well, what about Malfoy, then?" Harry put his elbows on his desk.

Kingsley slapped some papers onto Harry's desk. "He's been spotted. In Scotland. At least, we think it's him. We hope because otherwise, we have absolutely no idea where he could be, and that is not a very palatable option."

Harry put his head on his knuckles and rocked back and forth, thinking. "All right," he said, snapping up his head and clapping his hands. "Send some Aurors out to where we think he's been sighted to find out some more information and to try and find him. And we'll continue the search out here."

Kingsley nodded. "This worries me, Harry – Lucius Malfoy on the run. It's taken us three years to finally bring a sense of peace to the wizarding world… and it's too fragile. Three years isn't long enough for people to feel truly safe. If word gets out about Malfoy…"

"I know," Harry said, his mouth set in a grim line. "And I don't have a good feeling about this either, Kingsley."

"Don't say that, Potter. You'll jinx the damn thing."

Harry sighed. "It's true though." He shook his head. "Never mind that. Let's just worry about recapturing Malfoy."

"I'm on it."

"Oh, and Kingsley? Try to keep it quiet, will you? The less people know, the better."

Kingsley nodded. "I understand."

x x x

Later that evening, Ron and Harry both sat in a small pub near the Ministry, sharing drinks, laughs, and stories as they unwound after work.

"Ginny and those hare-brained ideas of hers," Ron chuckled after Harry shared a particularly humorous story about one of Ginny's more outrageous plans for their wedding. "Does she really think you'd go for that? Really?"

Harry grinned. "I reckon she thinks love is boundless."

"Even love has limits, mate!" Ron guffawed. "If I see you in that get up, I swear, I'll never let you live it down."

Harry's face became very serious. "What makes you think I'd actually consider it? I wasn't…"

Ron raised an eyebrow. "As if you could say no to Ginny?"

"I could!"

"All right then," Ron said indifferently. "You could."

"Well, what about Hermione?" Harry asked, turning the heat on his best friend. "I don't see you saying no to her too often."

Ron considered it for a moment. "All right, you've got me there. But," Ron continued, "as the years go by, you will learn the great art of the compromise – which is what Hermione and I do… a lot." Ron's eyes widened. "Juuuust about everything."

"Ahh, yes," Harry said sarcastically. "Advice from the seasoned married man."

"And don't you forget it," Ron grinned. He looked down at his half empty glass. "But speaking of Hermione… she hasn't quite been herself lately," Ron mused, swirling the firewhiskey around in his glass.

Harry gave his friend a curious look. "What do you mean by that?"

"I dunno, it's like she's… distracted or something. As if something's bothering her. Like she's hiding something from me. I ask her about it, and she says it's nothing."

Harry's blood ran cold. "D-D'you reckon you know what it's about?"

Ron shrugged. "I haven't the slightest clue." Ron checked his watch. "Oh, bloody hell, we were supposed to be back at the Burrow twenty minutes ago." He groaned. "Hermione and Ginny and my _mum_ are going to give us hell. We better get going. Ohhh no you don't!" Ron warned as Harry started to put money on the table. "I know that old habit of yours. Today's your birthday. Drinks are on me today."

"All right," Harry grumbled, "but I'm paying next time."

The two walked to the Apparating point outside the pub and appeared a little outside the Burrow. Harry and Ron walked together up the path.

"Maybe you should talk to Hermione… about whatever she's distracted about," Harry suggested. He was feeling slightly uneasy.

"Maybe," Ron said. "I don't know, Harry. If it were something important, she would have told me. It's probably some small thing she just doesn't want me to worry about. I mean, what could she possibly be hiding from me?"

_Strangely familiar words,_ Harry thought. Where had he heard them before? _Oh, right… Ginny_. "I suppose you're right," Harry said aloud.

"'Course I am," Ron said. He opened the door. It was pitch black. "'Lo, Mum! Hermione! We're here... Hello?"

There was no response.

Immediately, the two Aurors pulled out their wands. "Ginny?" Harry called out tentatively. A feeling of dread was starting to creep up his spine.

"It's dark as hell here… can't see a bloody thing," Ron said. "_Lumos_."

The lights all turned on, and seemingly out of nowhere, balloons, cake, food, decorations, and people appeared. "SURPRISE!!!!" they all screamed in unison.

"Bloody hell!" Harry yelled.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!"

Harry was white as a sheet. He turned on Ron. "Did you know about this?"

Ron's eyes were wide with shock. "No, not at all."

"Don't do that!" Harry shouted. "I thought you were all under bloody attack!"

Ignoring him, Ginny sauntered over and planted a huge kiss on Harry's cheek. "Happy birthday, Harry dearest."

"Thanks," Harry mumbled.

"Now, I know you don't like a huge fuss being made out of your birthday, but you've been working so hard lately, Hermione and I thought you deserved a little party and a celebration in your honour. Don't you go disagreeing," Ginny warned when Harry started to protest. "You're going to party with us and you're going to like it."

"I do," Harry said finally. "Like it, I mean." Swarms of smiling faces were looking at him expectantly – the Weasleys – all of them (he'd lost count of how many there were), Tonks and Lupin, Kingsley, Neville, Luna, Dean, Lavender… "Thanks everyone. This is amazing."

"Like the decorations, Harry?" Tonks asked, pointing a finger at them. Tonks, for some unknown reason, had decided to go with a tropical theme. Palm trees shot up from the ground – which was now covered in sand, and coconuts hung from the ceiling. Colourful parrots swooped overhead, squawking greetings like, "Harry birthday happy!"

"They're… great, Tonks," Harry said uncertainly.

Tonks grinned. "Knew you'd love 'em. Well, everyone, I think it's time to party!"

Everyone cheered, and each one split off. Luna was telling a bemused Neville about the dangers of the tropical Tranglewurm, usually hidden in the husks of ripened coconuts. Fred and George were dangling Aiden and Isabelle by their feet, tickling them. Tonks was blasting some music and dancing wildly with Bill and Charlie, much to Remus's dismay. Dean and Lavender were sitting on the couch, watching the parrots flying around. Mrs. Weasley was busy in the kitchen, presumably preparing more food, while everyone else was busy consuming it.

Harry smiled at Hermione and Ginny. "Thanks, you two. Though you know I don't really like big parties, especially ones for me."

"We know. That's why we planned one." Ginny winked roguishly at Harry who laughed in response. "But the whole thing was mainly Hermione's idea."

"I suppose I should thank you, then, Hermione?"

"Oh, but you helped a lot too, Ginny," Hermione said in mock protest. "You did most of the conspiring."

Ron looked slightly miffed. "How long have you guys been planning this?"

"About three weeks," Hermione replied. "Oh, Ron, I hope you're not upset I didn't tell you. I couldn't."

"Yeah, I told her not to," Ginny said, smiling evilly.

"Ginny!"

"What?" Ginny looked at her brother defiantly. "You're _terrible_ at keeping secrets, Ron! If Hermione had told you, Harry surely would have found out, and we wouldn't have had the wonderful privilege of seeing his utterly and completely shocked face."

"All right, fine," Ron said, crossing his arms. Realisation dawned on his face. "So you've been hiding this from me? These last three weeks? That's why you've been acting so strangely?"

"Yes… why?"

Ron shot Harry a look. "Oh, nothing. Just wondering, is all." He grinned and put his arm around Hermione's shoulders.

x x x

Later that night, Hermione stood by the drinks table and watched the hubbub in front of her with pride. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, and the party had gone off without a hitch. Mostly. Ginny had almost forgotten to bring the mini quiches, and Fred had _nearly_ destroyed some of the parrots, but all in all, everything went according to plan.

What Ron had said earlier bothered her. "_That's why you've been acting so strangely?"_ She felt uncomfortable even thinking about that. _He'd noticed_, she thought. Fortunately, she'd been able to explain it away easily, but she wasn't so sure she could always be that lucky…

"Great party," a voice behind her said.

She jumped. "Wha… Oh, it's you, Remus!"

The man gave her a kind and gentle smile. "It's not at all like you to be jumpy, Hermione. Is something wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing," Hermione said quickly. "Just planning this party, I suppose. You know, the whole surprise element of it."

"Ah," Remus said, nodding. "You know, I never quite pictured you as the stay-at-home wife who plans parties, but I suppose I've been wrong about many things. I never exactly pictured myself as the marrying type, either." He cleared his throat. "Have you thought more about the teaching position at Hogwarts? I'm certain Minerva would love having you as the Transfiguration professor. You are her first choice."

Hermione flushed with pleasure. "Really?" she squeaked. She couldn't help herself.

"Of course," Remus said, smiling. "She has a back up in case you decline, but she has told me she really would love for you to take it."

"I've thought about it," Hermione said. "But I don't know… being away from home… from Aiden…"

"I understand." Remus looked over at Tonks who was now playing with Aiden. "I'm not sure if I could leave Dora behind, especially now that she's expecting..."

"It's all right though," Hermione said. "I'm sure you could work something out."

"I suppose," Remus said thoughtfully. "So what have you been up to lately, Hermione? I haven't talked to you in a very long time. How are things at home?"

"Dull," Hermione answered truthfully. "So dull. I miss working."

"Ah." Remus took a sip out of his glass. He smiled. "Then come to Hogwarts."

"I've mentioned it to Ron," Hermione said flatly. "He doesn't think it's a good idea for me to take any job, really. He says perhaps after a few years, after Aiden's a bit older would be a better time for me to go back to work… but I think he has in his mind that maybe I'll home school Aiden like Molly did for him."

"I see."

"Sometimes, I feel so trapped," Hermione admitted. She sighed. "Oh, listen to me ramble. A person would think I lived this terrible life, but I don't, my life is utterly perfect… and I'm just whining now…"

"No, no," Remus assured her. "It's quite all right, really. You're frustrated. It's perfectly within your bounds to feel so. Perhaps you should talk to Ron about it?"

"Maybe," Hermione said. "But sometimes, I just feel like… like he's listening but he doesn't understand."

"Communication is vital to any relationship. I learned that the hard way." Remus poured himself some more punch. "This punch is amazing, Hermione. Who made it?"

"Tonks."

"Really? I'm impressed."

Hermione smiled, but her smile soon faded. "I just don't know what to say to him, Remus. Truly."

"Be honest," Remus replied. "With him, with yourself… Be honest about how you're feeling and what you're thinking. I've found that disasters tend to arise when one isn't honest with themselves. That's how _I _was, for the longest time – convincing myself that I was sacrificing for the good of Dora when truly all I was doing was protecting myself." Remus rubbed his chin. "I was hurting her in the process. That's what happens. You lie to yourself, and you end up hurting you and the people you love."

Hermione sat, contemplating Remus's words. Be honest with herself? As simple as it sounded, Hermione knew she hadn't been doing that lately. Olivia had warned against it, but Hermione had openly embraced denial because it was easier. It allowed her to be safe. But now…

"Hermione?" Remus nudged her. "You all right there?"

"Oh! Yes, sorry, I sort of zoned off there."

"No problem. I think it's time for the cake," Remus whispered. "I think Mrs. Weasley wants you to help her with it."

Hermione headed to the kitchen. "I'm on it."

Somehow, she felt rejuvenated. Perhaps it was because now Hermione knew what she had to do. Tomorrow, she would go back to the one place where she _could_ be honest, the one place that wasn't tainted with lies. Tomorrow, she'd return to the cabin.

x x x

Draco looked around him. He hadn't been here in three years. The thought of coming here had crossed his mind – several thousand times – but he was reluctant. There were too many memories here – too many memories he had tried to forget. But somehow, inexplicably, he had Apparated right in front of the cabin where he and Hermione had spent so many days together three years ago.

Lupin's cabin.

_You can still turn back_, he heard a voice in the back of his head saying. _You shouldn't even be here. What are you, bloody insane? Are you trying to torture yourself?_

_Maybe_, he thought back in defiance. _Maybe I deserve this_.

He pushed open the door.

The ruins of the cabin lay at his feet. Besides that, though, most of the things were where he remembered them, though a few details had changed. Or perhaps his memory had warped them, ever so slightly.

Draco's eyes landed on the empty bookshelves. He smiled slightly as he remembered the books that once sat on those shelves. He had been reluctant initially to even _look_ at them, much to Hermione's annoyance.

- - -

_He restlessly kicked the pillows off the sofa. "Granger, I'm bored."_

_She was in the kitchen, doing something. He had no idea what, but he had taken the liberty of assuming that it wasn't very important. Her shoulders seemed to tense slightly at the sound of his voice. "So?" Her voice sounded very tight._

"_So," he replied nastily, "I don't want to be bored."_

"_Well, what do you want me to do about it?" she asked testily. _

"_Bloody hell, I don't know…"_

"_Then stop bothering me! I'm trying to get dinner ready, in case you haven't noticed." He scowled at her. She sighed. "Here." She walked over to the bookshelf, stood there for a while, and selected a small paperback. She tossed it over to him. "Read this."_

_He caught it. "What is this?" he asked, investigating the cover. "_Crime and Punishment_?"_

"_It's a Muggle book," she explained. _

_Almost instantly, he flung it back at her._

"_Hey!" she yelled, barely catching it and saving it from hitting the floor. She cradled it in her hands like it was some sort of precious treasure. "Don't throw my books around like that!" She shot him an angry look._

"_Then don't dirty my hands with trash like that! What are you trying to do – poison me?"_

"_I was trying to help you," she said through gritted teeth. She threw her hands up in the air. "Fine. I tried. You didn't like it. I tried. You can't blame me for not trying." Huffily, she stalked by him and back into the kitchen. He craned his head around to watch her go._

"_Thanks for nothing, Granger," he shouted to her._

"_Anytime, Malfoy."_

- - -

Of course, about a month later, Draco had given in and taken a book off that shelf and opened it out of his own free will. Actually, he blamed Tonks. She had driven him absolutely batty, and she wouldn't leave him alone, so he had finally picked up a book in hope she'd stop talking. She did, but what he hadn't counted on was getting completely absorbed by the beauty of the writing and the poignancy of the story… a story that now resonated so deeply within him.

Draco walked through the room carefully, taking care to avoid some shattered glass on the floor. He entered the wrecked kitchen. He brushed his hand against the counter top and stared at the oven that Hermione had so often made good use of.

- - -

"_What are you making now?" He peered over her shoulder with interest. She was mixing something looking rather doughy in a large glass bowl with her hands._

"_Like my Muggle baking now, do you?" She smirked. _

_He glared at the back of her head. "You know, you _really_ shouldn't do that. Seriously… acting like me? It's a little unnerving."_

"_I thought imitation was the highest form of flattery," she replied airily._

_He ignored her. "What are you making?" he persisted._

"_Scones. I thought we could have scones for tea today."_

_He moved in even closer. His face brushed against her hair. "Mm… Smells good."_

_She laughed. "They don't really _have_ a smell, Draco. Other than the oh-so-delicious smell of uncooked dough, anyway."_

"_I wasn't talking about the scones." She spun her head around to give him a playful glare. He grinned. "You smell like cinnamon… utterly and completely delicious."_

_She smacked him on the head. _

"_Hey!" he howled. He rubbed the spot on his forehead where she had hit him. "Bad form! That was completely uncalled for!"_

_A smile was tugging at her lips. She fought to keep it back, but she couldn't stop it. She turned, wrapped her arms around his neck, and gave him a kiss._

"_Merlin, Granger! You're getting dough all over my hair!"_

- - -

Draco smiled bitterly, as he always did. Thinking about her… remembering those good times… The warmness they filled him with was always quickly overwhelmed by the pain of knowing that those times were over and would never return.

If he had known… if he somehow could have known… would he have done things differently? He wondered.

Draco walked into the living room and sat down on the sofa. He stared at the empty fireplace. They had sat together, here, in front of this fireplace, so many times.

- - -

"_I did it," she said as she came rushing in._

_He was sitting on the sofa, reading. Upon hearing her outburst, he frowned. There was a strange, foreign glimmer in her eye. She seemed… excited, nervous, and ecstatic, all at the same time. He had never been aware anyone could feel those emotions all at once without exploding. "Did what?" he asked, standing up._

"_Talked to Ron."_

_He laughed. "And this is news because...? You talk to the Weasel almost every day. What other titillating news will you share with me today, Granger? News flash! The sky is blue and clouds are made of evaporated water!"_

_She ignored him. "I talked to Ron about me and him," she continued._

_He felt his heart stop. "What did you say?" he asked. He was sure his face, which was previously pale was now close to _deathly_ pale._

_Without saying anything, she walked over to him and kissed him. He was so surprised, he nearly fell backwards, but he managed to keep his balance. Fighting his desires, he gently pushed her away._

"_What did you say?" he asked again._

"_Isn't it obvious?" she drawled, clearly mocking him._

_She was sounding a little too much like him. "Don't take that tone of voice with me, Granger," he warned._

_She was grinning ear to ear though. "You were right, Draco. Ron and I weren't working out, no matter how hard I tried to convince myself otherwise. But being here… being with _you_… everything in the world seems right at this moment."_

"_So what then?" He felt his heart racing slightly._

_She kissed him again. This time, he didn't fight back._

- - -

"Draco?"

The unexpected sound startled him. He jumped up and spun around, pulling his wand from his robes and held it out, ready in his hand. But when he saw who it was, he nearly dropped his wand.

Hermione stood in the doorway. Her wide brown eyes were watching him, and they seemed slightly brighter than usual.

"You're here," she whispered.

He put his wand back in his robes. "As are you," he said quietly.

Hermione started walking toward him. "Are you going to run away again? Avoid talking to me as you did last time?" He didn't answer. "What are you doing here, Draco?" she asked. "Why did you come back?"

He still said nothing, standing stoically, still not returning her gaze. He couldn't look at her. He knew if he did, he might very well say or do something he'd later regret.

"You still love me, don't you? You wouldn't have come back if you didn't." Hermione looked up at him, imploring him to speak.

Draco, however, remained silent. Truthfully, he couldn't speak even if he had wanted to. His throat felt like it was being strangled. His tongue felt like it was made of lead. And of course, his mind was completely spinning.

Hermione reached out and touched his hand. "Draco, please…"

"Why do you want me to say that I love you so badly?" he finally managed to croak out. He stepped away from her. "To mock me? To torture me? Are you having fun watching me writhe in pain, Granger? Is this some sort of sick game?"

"No, no!" She shook her head vehemently. "No, I could never do something like that to you…"

_Maybe you should_, he thought bitterly.

When he didn't speak, she continued. "Draco, I know this can't be easy for you, and I assure you it isn't for me. I just wish somehow, we could go back three years…"

"So do I." The words left his mouth before he even knew it. He froze. As true as they were, he hadn't intended for Hermione to hear them.

She smiled sadly. "But we can't, can we? We're here, and the past is fixed, immutable." She sighed. "But I realised that we can't escape our pasts. These last three weeks, I've tried so hard not to think about you and not to think about all that happened between us and not to think about seeing you again. I knew I shouldn't, but I just couldn't. I thought if I could just… somehow… pretend you didn't exist I could forget about you but…" Hermione slowly reached out and touched his face. "Here I am. And here you are."

The feel of her hand on his face was heavenly. But it was also torture. He closed his eyes. "Hermione," he said thickly, "Hermione, please… don't…"

"Do you love me?" she asked again softly.

Then Draco made his mistake. He allowed himself to look into her eyes, and he completely lost all of his defenses. "Yes," he said quietly, looking down at the floor. "You know I do."

Hermione directed his face so that he was looking at her. She was smiling. Her face was radiant and she looked absolutely beautiful – every bit as beautiful as he remembered. Then, she leaned forward and kissed him.

He didn't fight back.  


* * *

**  
AN: **Oh, Draco. You're such a sissy boy. :3 Wrote him all weak and soft, I did... but there's a reason for it and you'll see in time. I thought it'd be nice to see a few memories from Draco's pov, so here they are. And I know not many of you are fans of Ginny in this fic, but I totally love her character. I have so much fun writing her.

I'm not a huge fan of this chapter, but seeing as how I'm still severely stumped as how to go forward, this shall have to do. It gets the job done, I suppose. Oh well.


	18. How I Know You

**AN: **Long time no update! I'm so utterly sorry about the time it took, but I've been really busy this last week, and I was in a place where internet was not easily accessible. At any rate, here it is. And I hope you enjoy it.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! It really means so much to me. :) I forgot to note that we went over 100 reviews. Thank you to every single person who reviewed.

Oh! And this story just passed 10,000 hits. Crazy! I would have never thought it. Thank you all so much!

* * *

**  
Stand and Watch It Burn**

**XVIII. How I Know You**

Hermione gazed out the window, watching as the people in Diagon Alley bustled by. She was nursing a cup of tea, swirling the contents of her cup too and fro. The tea was still a little too hot for her to drink without burning her tongue. Hermione stared down at the brown liquid, sitting and steaming in the china cup.

She was waiting for Draco. Ever since their rendezvous in the cabin, they'd been meeting with each other every single day. It was a different place every day – a low key, unknown place where they wouldn't be seen by people they knew. Draco had been reluctant to meet with her in public, but she'd manage to sway him. It wasn't too hard, really. She knew he wanted to see her as desperately as she wanted to see him, so all she had to do was stay firm on keeping all their meetings in public places.

Hermione wasn't sure why she wanted so much to keep the meetings public, but she had a few theories. For one thing, it kept their meetings innocent… physically, at the very least. Being in public prevented Hermione from doing anything rash, no matter how badly she wanted to. And maybe it didn't seem so… horrible if they didn't hide away. Like what they were doing wasn't as wrong as it actually was.

Still, Hermione had taken care to choose places where she was sure they would not be seen by anyone who would recognize them or pay any attention to them. It was better that way. Safer.

Feeling impatient now, Hermione stared determinedly at the clock tower near the store across the street, willing it to go faster. She was starting to feel anxious. She had no idea why, as he wasn't late – not yet, anyway. It wasn't quite eleven. She knew he wouldn't be late. He never was. He was very exact, very punctual. For some reason though, she had arrived fifteen minutes earlier the agreed meeting time. She did this every time, and she had no idea why. Maybe it was because she was eager to see him. Or maybe it was because she had nothing better to do. Maybe it was a combination of both.

There was a dull buzz of conversation that filled the room. Hermione's eyes swept over the little tea shop. It had a handful of eclectic patrons. The shop was about half full, though for some reason, Hermione felt like it was completely deserted.

_Bong. Bong_. The clock had just struck eleven. The door swung open.

"Hello, sir, how many in your party?" Hermione heard the hostess ask.

"I'm looking for someone." His voice. The sound of it calmed her a bit.

"All right, well go on right ahead."

Hermione spun around and sure enough, there was Draco, walking towards her. He had an amused smile on his face.

"Hey," he said softly, leaning in to kiss her chastely on the cheek. Hermione felt her heart leap.

"Hi," she replied, smiling up at him.

Draco sat down in the seat across from her. "Nice place," he drawled, gesturing at the dark purple walls with lime green trim.

Hermione shrugged nonchalantly. "Thought we could try something new."

"New indeed," Draco said, examining their surroundings. "Merlin, who thought those Flaming Tortatuga plants were a good idea? Hideous and dangerous to boot."

Hermione tried to roll her eyes, but she could hardly suppress her amusement. The place _was_ hideous. That was why she chose it. She knew no one in their right mind would come here, meaning the likelihood of seeing someone they knew was considerably lower. "So," she said conversationally, "how's everything been?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "You asked me that yesterday."

"What? Things change from day to day."

"Yeah, for _normal_ people."

"Well, what have you done today?"

Draco pulled at his chin thoughtfully. "Got up early and took a nice leisurely walk. Read a bit by the pond. Saw some ducks. Met up with Potter for parole. Always exciting." He pondered a little longer. "Well, that seems to be all of it."

"How are your meetings with Harry?"

"They're not really _meetings_… they're more like cross examinations. He asks me the same questions every time and I give him the same answers every time. 'No,' 'yes,' and 'of course'. It's a tad redundant and a waste of time. Have I told you? Harry's late almost every single time. The silly git makes me wait around at least five minutes before he shows up. Today, I had to wait for ten minutes before he stumbled in apologising."

Hermione smiled. "Yes, that is like him."

Draco shook his head. "I would have thought that he'd straighten that out these last few years, but he still has that bloody habit." He shrugged. "Oh well, my three months parole is nearly over and I won't have to do it anymore and I won't have bother with him again."

For some reason, Hermione thought he sounded slightly bitter. "Does that upset you?"

"No," Draco said. "Why would it?"

"It _sounded_ like it bothered you."

Draco was silent for a while. "It's nothing," he finally said. "It's just life, I suppose. But I've accepted it and moved on. Water under the bridge."

Hermione was a little confused. Water under the bridge? What was Draco talking about? "What do you mean 'water under the bridge'?"

"Never mind," Draco said quickly. "How are you? What amusing stories about the silly things your son has done in the last twenty-four hours can you share with me?"

Hermione grinned, thinking of her little son. "He was eating mashed bananas last night…"

"Thrilling," Draco drawled. "Now tell me, Granger, did he eat said bananas with a spoon? Or – could it be? – a _fork_?"

She tried to glower at him but she couldn't help smiling. "Let me finish!"

"All right," he said, chuckling. "Go on."

"Well, now I don't really feel like telling you." Hermione crossed her arms in defiance.

Draco smirked at her attempt at insolence. "Really, now?" he asked with amusement.

"Really." Hermione tried to keep a straight face. Finally she let out a giggle. "Oh, okay, fine. I can't stay angry at you."

"I thought not," he said, smiling smugly.

"Shut up."

"Ooooh," Draco said, grinning. "_Real_ mature, Hermione." Before she could retort a defense, Draco continued, "So, what _was_ Aiden doing with his mashed bananas?"

Hermione glared at him briefly before speaking. "Well, last night he decided to wear them instead of finishing them. Halfway through his meal, he suddenly took the bowl and put it on his head. And then the bananas were all in his hair and he looks at me wide-eyed and innocent and says 'bah bah bubo?'" Hermione's smile was wide across her face as she gushed about her son. "Then he summoned his rubber ducky! He wanted me to give him a bath after he put all those bananas on his head!"

Draco smiled thinly. "Cute."

Hermione noticed that Draco seemed a little uneasy. "Are you all right?"

"What? Of course, I'm fine," Draco said.

But she knew he was lying. Although he was very adept at hiding it, she could sense his agitation. At what, though? Hermione wondered. After brief speculation, she knew what it was. She shook her head in disbelief.

"Draco," she said softly, "why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Ask about Aiden. You do it every day. Why?"

Draco stared at her as if she had just asked the stupidest question possible. "Why wouldn't I ask about him?"

"It makes you unhappy.

His lips were pressed firmly together. "What makes you say that?" he asked.

"Draco, why do you do it? It's only hurting you, I can tell…"

'He's your son, Hermione," Draco said grimly. "You love him, don't you? You care about him. He makes you happy, and no matter how much I wish…"

"Oh, Draco." Hermione reached over and took his hand. "Draco."

He didn't look at her.

Hermione bit her lip. She knew he didn't want to talk about it. Reluctantly, she changed the subject. "What have you been reading?"

x x x

Draco felt light and – dare he say it? – almost _giddy _as he climbed the stairs to his room. It was nearly like the last three years hadn't happened, like he'd never been convicted and thrown into Azkaban. The sky seemed so brilliant and vibrant, he'd almost swear that he'd never seen such a blue sky before.

It was like falling in love all over again. In a way, Draco _was_. Though he knew he had never stopped loving her, he had completely given up hope. He had thought there could be no way… but against all odds, there she was. And though the last three years had changed her, it was certainly in the most agreeable manner. If it were anyhow possible, Draco loved her more now than he ever did. Every day, he loved her more.

Still, there was a dark cloud on the horizon – the dark cloud of reality. Hermione was someone else's wife and the mother of someone's child. No matter how much he loved her and how much she might love him, nothing could change that. And there was always the distinct possibility that she…

"Draco?"

His mother's voice echoed through the halls. Draco checked the time. Indeed, it was time for their afternoon tea.

"Draco, dear, where are you?"

"Here, Mother," he called out from the top of the stairs.

"Oh, good," Narcissa said, smiling up at her son. "Where would you like to take tea, today, Draco?"

He thought briefly. "The garden," he said.

His mother nodded. "I'll tell Hetty. I will meet you there." She walked under the stairs and out to the garden. Draco heard as the sound of her heels hitting against the marble floors resonated in the main room, fading as she walked away.

- - -

_It is a beautiful day_, Narcissa thought as she poured tea into the cups. She was in the garden, as her son had suggested. The sky was clear, and a gentle breeze kept it from being hot. The colourful flowers Draco had so meticulously planted along the pathway swayed gently in the wind, creating a lovely illusion of rolling waves.

As much as she criticized Draco for all the time he spent outdoors gardening, she did enjoy being out here. Not that she approved of actually _gardening_. No, no, that was certainly a servant's work. Narcissa did wish Draco would leave that to the house elves, but he insisted…

In the three years she had lived alone in Malfoy Manor, Narcissa could feel a sense of peace only in the beautiful stillness of the garden. Narcissa had habitually frequented the garden Draco had most often worked. When she was there, she felt a strange closeness with her son who had been so far away. She also strangely felt rejuvenated, like she was coming to life again… perhaps that was what Draco loved so much about it.

She'd never tell him though. Narcissa didn't want Draco to think she approved of wasting time on such frivolous activities.

Though, now that she thought about it, Draco had not been spending as much time in his garden the last few days. Before, he had sulked in it for hours upon hours doing Merlin knew what. But now, he'd disappear for several hours a day. What could he be doing?

"Mother. Sorry to have kept you waiting."

Narcissa saw Draco walking toward her. He had changed from the black robes she'd seen him wearing earlier to a set of handsome emerald green robes. He was walking with confidence in every step, and he seemed… different somehow.

Draco sat down in one of the wiry chair at the glass table. He smiled at her. "Thank you," he said, taking a cup. He was _smiling_.

As much as it warmed her heart to see her only son happy, it was a curious thing to see him openly so. Narcissa looked at him, taking care to mask her curiosity.

"Hello, Draco," she said smoothly. "How has your day been?"

"Rather nice," Draco replied. He refilled his mother's half-empty cup. "And yours, mother? What did you do today? Shopping in Diagon Alley?"

"I had lunch with my sister."

"Sounds lovely."

Narcissa nodded. "What did you do today?"

"The usual," Draco replied glibly. "Gardening. Reading."

"Have you gone out today, dear?"

"Go out?" Draco gave her a strange, unreadable look. "Where would I go, Mother? Why do you ask?"

Narcissa looked closely at her son, trying to examine him. There was most certainly something different about him… but she couldn't say what exactly. Although his face was now in a very neutral expression, there was a certain lightness about his eyes. It was almost like they were glowing. But why?

"I don't know," she sighed. "No reason."

"What are your plans for tomorrow?" Draco asked, redirecting the conversation.

She'd find out eventually, she thought. But for now, Narcissa was content to be ignorant. She smiled at her son and let the conversation wander off track. After all, it was such a beautiful day. There was no point in pressing him about something that he clearly did not want to share.

x x x

"… and jumped right in front of me! Merlin, years of training and the sodding wanker still shocked the hell out of me! I nearly dropped my bloody wand! Good thing Harry decided last minute to go with me, or I might not have made it back in one piece."

"So I owe Harry a thank you note for returning my husband whole, then?" Hermione asked lightly as she washed the dishes.

Ron grinned and wrapped his arms around Hermione's waist from behind. "Seems like it," he said cheekily.

"Might I remind you that if you just so happened to die, you'd leave behind a widow and a fatherless infant?"

"Now, 'Mione, you know I wouldn't be _that_ reckless."

"As long as you remember," Hermione said almost nastily.

"Geez, Hermione, why are you so wound up?" Ron stared at the back of his wife's head with confusion. "Is Aiden giving you trouble or something?"

Hermione sighed heavily and set down the pot she was holding with a loud clunk. "No," she said shortly.

"You really should do this using magic, love. It makes things so much easier." He looked over her shoulder at the pile of dishes.

"It'd be even easier if you'd help around the house every once in a while," she snapped.

Ron was at a complete loss for an explanation for Hermione's erratic behaviour. "Are you okay, Hermione? Really, you seem upset for some reason. Was it something I did? Look, I promise, from now on, I'll be _more careful_…"

"No, Ron," Hermione said tiredly. "It's just been a long week, okay?"

"Okay," Ron replied uncertainly. He gently placed a kiss on Hermione's neck. "You know," he said in a low voice, "Aiden's sleeping."

"I know. It took me nearly an hour to get him to sleep."

Ron moved up her neck and placed another kiss on her jaw. "We could…" He felt Hermione tense in his arms. "Hermione?"

"What?" she asked edgily.

"Is something…?"

"I… I'm just so tired, Ron. I can't…"

"It won't be long, I promise. Just once?"

"No, Ron." She sounded agitated.

"Please, we haven't for nearly over a month…" Ron started to nuzzle her neck.

"Ron, I'm _tired_ all right?" She jerked away from his head.

Ron pulled away from her. "Fine." He turned on his heel and stomped all the way upstairs to their bedroom, making sure to slam the door behind him. In the other corner of the room, there was a wail. The loud noise had wakened Aiden.

x x x

Hermione stared at the wall in front of her. Time was moving rather slowly today.

Last night's argument with Ron had left a sour taste in her mouth. They had gone to bed angry with each other, something they had promised early on in their marriage not to do. Breakfast had been an awkward, silent affair. Ron had wordlessly eaten everything on his plate and left for work without so much as bidding her or Aiden farewell.

She couldn't blame him for being angry with her. And she felt so _guilty_. While she was with Draco, she felt deliriously happy and content and couldn't dream of being anywhere else. But the moment they parted, it was if reality hit Hermione over the head with a sledgehammer. The implications of exactly what she was doing filled her head and taunted her. Although she and Draco had hardly touched each other and all their conversations had been completely innocent, Hermione knew their feelings toward each other were not. Hermione was in love with a man that was not her husband, and the guilt was starting to eat away at her.

But what could she do? Hermione didn't know. She couldn't bring herself to leave Ron, nor could she bring herself to end it with Draco. But she simply couldn't continue this. Every night, she got less and less sleep thinking about it. The burden grew heavier every day she let it persist. Eventually, something had to give…

Hermione had tried to convince herself it was a simple matter of deciding who it was she truly loved. But it was so much more complex than that… There was Aiden to think about. Her friends – the people she'd known for more than half her life. Ron. Draco. There were so many people tangled in this web…

And the truth was Hermione didn't know who she loved. Sometimes she was convinced it was Ron. Other times, she knew it was Draco. Was it possible to love _two people_ at the same time…?

But Ron had lied to her. _Lied_. He had purposefully kept her history with Draco a secret from her, presumably to help himself.

An odd thought struck Hermione. _What if Ron had framed Draco to have him thrown in Azkaban? What if Ron had done it so Draco and I would be forced to be separated?_

She felt absolutely cold.

No. Ron couldn't be that heartless. He was warm, caring, funny and…

But he had lied. He was a liar. How could she trust him?

"Hello," a voice from behind her said.

Hermione turned around. Draco was standing behind her, looking down at her. A soft smile tinged his lips as he gazed at her. She felt her body warm again in his presence.

"Hi," she said softly. He leaned in and, as he always did, kissed her gently on the cheek.

Draco sat down across from her. He frowned when he saw the distressed look on her face. "Hermione, are you all right? You look rather distraught. Is something troubling you?"

Hermione took a deep breath and then smiled at him. "Something was," she said, "but not anymore."

He looked into her eyes, considering for a moment. Then Draco nodded. "How's Aiden?" he asked.

- - -

After spending time with Draco, she felt considerably brighter. Just looking at him made her feel better. Being with him made her feel safe.

It seemed though, that each meeting became shorter and shorter though they both stayed longer than they had the meeting before. Hermione always dreaded ending their time together, but she knew she could not stay too long.

"I should go," Hermione said reluctantly when it was nearly one o'clock.

Draco nodded slowly. "As should I."

Neither moved.

"Shall I see you tomorrow?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head. "Tomorrow's Saturday."

"Ah," Draco said, sounding slightly disappointed.

Hermione was glad he understood without needing her explanation. Both of them had avoided speaking Ron's name, and Hermione didn't feel much like being the first one to bring him up.

"Monday, though," Hermione said.

"Where, then?"

"I know a small place…"

Draco chuckled. "It never ceases to amaze me the number of places you know. How did you find this place? Though I must say, I like it better than that purple and green place. At least the colour of the wall doesn't burn my eyes."

"I came here once with a couple of girlfriends for tea," Hermione said. "Are you mocking it? This is one of my favourite places!"

"Oh, heavens no," Draco said dryly. "Why ever would I mock a place that uses lace doilies and frilly pillows for decoration?"

Hermione turned up her nose. "Fine, then," she said. "You hate it."

"Never," Draco said. He reached across and took her hand. "I'd never hate a place that has you in it."

She felt her cheeks tinge pink with pleasure. But she couldn't let this opportunity slide. "You have a fine way of showing it," Hermione said, crossing her arms.

Draco merely smirked at her. "Oh come now, you're not truly upset. I thought you couldn't stay mad at me."

"Not when you insult one of my favourite places for tea."

Draco looked genuinely concerned now. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I never thought… Look, I didn't mean…"

Hermione couldn't hold it in any longer. She burst out into giggles. Draco stared at her.

"I'm sorry –" giggle " – the look –" giggle " - on your _face_ was just – " giggle " - priceless…"

Draco's facial expression was now a cross between annoyance and amusement. "You were joking?"

"Of course I was! Why would I like a place with little pink hearts on the teapots? I hate it here! I only came because Ginny dragged me here once."

His face had relaxed, and he was grinning now. "You are mad, woman."

"Yes, but I'm _your_ mad woman," Hermione replied.

Draco seemed to sober at this. He reached across the table and tenderly caressed Hermione's face. "If only you were," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Draco, I –"

"Don't," he said brokenly. "Don't say anything. Because if you do, it might all fall apart."

Hermione nodded. She placed her hand on top of his.

After a while, Draco removed his hand. "We should go."

They both got up and walked to the front door of the small restaurant. Draco, the ever perfect gentleman, opened the door for Hermione, bowing grandly and courteously as he did. Hermione chortled softly as she stepped through the door.

Draco went through after her and took her hand. She turned when he pulled her back.

"Not here," she whispered urgently.

"I shall miss you," he said, ignoring her.

Hermione sighed. "And I you," she finally replied.

He pulled her even more closely to him. "Monday is a long time away."

"I know."

"Will you think of me?" Draco's eyes were penetrating hers. She felt intoxicated.

"Maybe," she said, hoping she sounded coy.

Draco wrapped his arm around her waist. "Then maybe I need to give you something to remember me by." He leaned down and captured her lips with his. She let him draw her in even further, deepening the kiss. It was their first since the one in the cabin. Kissing him was bliss – but more than that. It was like coming up for air. Hermione threw her arms around his neck, not wanting it to end, not wanting to ever let go. He was her lifesaver in an endless ocean.

But they had to part. Draco gently pushed her away. "I must go," he said softly. He gave her one last lingering kiss on her temple. "Until Monday."

Hermione watched as his black robes flowed freely behind him. He was walking away and disappearing quickly. When Hermione could no longer see him, she decided it was time for her to go. She started walking, still looking behind her, watching the empty space where Draco once stood. Abruptly, her path was interrupted by an unexpected, foreign object – another person.

"Oh, excuse me," she said quickly. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there."

"I'm sure."

The voice was a familiar one. Hermione felt her throat tighten and her heart begin to race. Her stomach was filled with dread as she slowly turned around, afraid of what – or rather, whom - she'd see.

Slowly she lifted her head and opened her eyes. Standing in front of her was Harry Potter.

* * *

**AN: **Dun dun dun!

Reviews greatly appreciated.


	19. The Confrontation

**AN: **This will probably be my last update until classes start... which is on Tuesday. gasp So, I'm back and settled in New York... which took a lot of time. I actually finished this chapter before I started the move... so go figure. Anyway, a shout out to all my reviewers (THANK YOU THANK YOU) and I hope you all enjoy this next chapter! Zhe plot iz thickening!**  
**

* * *

**Stand and Watch It Burn**

**XIX. The Confrontation**

Everything was at a standstill. Hermione suddenly found it nearly impossible to think straight, something she had never before experienced. She stood there, staring in disbelief at the person standing in front of her. It was _Harry_. How could it be Harry? Of all people… why Harry?

"What… What are you doing here?" she managed to croak out.

"Tea with Ginny," Harry said quietly. He seemed calm. Too calm. "We have tea together every Friday afternoon at this place."

"Oh." Hermione's voice was oddly and artificially cheerful. "Well, I mustn't keep you then. Wouldn't want you to be late for your…"

"I saw, Hermione." There was an unmistakable coldness in his voice.

Hermione tried to swallow, but her throat was too tight. There was no point in denying it. She knew he saw, and she knew _what_ he saw. Harry was no fool.

"Well, what now?" Her voice was quiet.

Harry pressed his lips together, not looking her in the eye. He took a deep breath before responding. "Now, I am going to have tea with Ginny." Harry paused. "But we will talk later."

Hermione bit her lip. "When?" she whispered.

"Today," he said firmly. "I will leave work early and go to your place."

She hesitated. "What about…"

"I won't tell him, if that's what you're worried about." Harry's voice was completely icy now. "I'll make sure to leave before he does. I won't tell him – not yet, anyway. I try not to do things that would hurt my friends."

There was a definite sting in his words. Hermione blinked. "I'm not..." she started weakly. "Harry, don't…"

"I don't want to talk right now, Hermione." Harry was starting to sound angry. "I'd rather not say something I'd regret later, if you don't mind, Hermione. As it is now, I can barely look you in the face. So please, stop talking. Just _stop_."

Hermione nodded dumbly. Harry walked past her, hitting her shoulder with his as he went by. Hermione watched as he disappeared into the little shop. She closed her eyes. What was going to happen now?

x x x

"Hermione, I got your owl… it seemed really urgent. Is everything… Whoa!"

Olivia stared at the mess in Hermione's kitchen. The usually spotless counter was cluttered with bowls covered in batter, used measuring cups, and broken eggshells. Hermione was standing at the counter, consulting a recipe book. Clumps of flour clung to her hair as she frantically flipped through the book.

"Oh, Olivia," she said distractedly. "Are you hungry? I made some sugar cookies and I'm about to make…"

Olivia waved a hand. "Is everything okay, Hermione? What's going on? What… Put that down!" Olivia grabbed the bowl that Hermione had just picked up. "This kitchen is covered in cookies and muffins. You have enough to feed all the elves at Hogwarts." Olivia set the bowl down with a clang. "Now what's all this about? You seemed very upset in your message."

To Olivia's surprise, Hermione broke down into tears. "Olivia, I messed up. I messed up so badly."

"What are you talking about?"

Hermione was crying still. "I…" she hiccupped. "I…"

"Here, calm down first," Olivia said soothingly. She walked over and rubbed Hermione's back comfortingly. When Hermione's sobbing started to slow down, Olivia gave her an encouraging smile. "Okay, now try."

Hermione nodded. "I… I've been seeing Draco."

Olivia raised an eyebrow. "And you didn't tell me?"

"I… didn't tell anyone," Hermione confessed. "At times, I felt so dirty… I just didn't want anyone to know."

Olivia nodded. "I understand. Go on."

"Well, I've been seeing him in public places and…"

"Why would you do that?" Olivia stared at Hermione in confusion.

"I didn't want things to seem worse than they already were!" Hermione bit her lip. "It didn't seem so bad, you know, if we saw each other in public. Like we had nothing to hide."

"Except you did," Olivia said dryly. "I can tell this doesn't have a happy ending."

Hermione smiled wryly. "Well, I guess it was only a matter of time… Today, someone saw us. Someone I know…"

Olivia's eyebrows flew up. "Not Ron?" she asked, alarmed.

Hermione shook her head. "Not Ron," Hermione replied. "But almost just as bad. Maybe worse." Hermione looked up and took a deep breath. "I saw Harry."

"Oh." Olivia was silent for a while. "Well… what did he say?"

"Not much." Hermione was fidgeting with a dishcloth. "But he's coming later today. I'm not sure when, but he's coming. To talk, he said."

"I imagine he wasn't too happy."

"He was furious," Hermione said.

Olivia shifted her weight from foot to foot. "So… what?" she asked.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"What will you say to _him_?"

Hermione looked confused. "About?"

"About this whole thing." Olivia waved her hand in the air. "What will you say about it?"

"I don't know," Hermione moaned. "Oh, Merlin, Olivia, how could I have been so reckless? So impulsive? I'm such a terrible person. I'm…"

"Stop." Olivia grabbed Hermione by her shoulders and shook her. "What are you bloody rambling on about?"

"I… I've been seeing Draco… and I'm married… I'm in love with someone else…" Hermione gasped.

"Do I need to remind you, Hermione, how your friends _lied_ to you?" Olivia crossed her arms. "For three bloody years? How they kept the truth away from you? About how you loved Malfoy? About how he was in the Order? How they _continue_ to keep the truth away from you, even when it's brought up?"

"It still doesn't justify…"

"No," Olivia conceded. "It doesn't."

"So how could I…?"

"Hermione! You are a victim here. You were cheated out of three years of your life. And why?" Olivia slammed a fist into her other hand. "Because your friends lied to you!"

"They… lied to me," Hermione repeated hesitantly.

Olivia nodded vehemently.

"For three years…" Slowly, Hermione closed her eyes. "God, Olivia, what am I going to do? In a way I'm a victim, but I'm also being so dishonest to Ron…"

"I know you feel guilty, Hermione, and it's just a sign of your goodness that you do." Olivia smiled sadly at her. "And perhaps Harry's anger is understandable… but maybe you should remind Harry that he's not completely innocent either."

x x x

She watched as Harry walked back and forth in her living room. He hadn't said anything since he arrived. When he first arrived, he sat on the sofa, but when Hermione tried to sit next to him, he had immediately gotten up and walked away. And now, he was pacing back and forth, still not looking at her.

Hermione was feeling uneasy. What Olivia had said earlier was still ringing in her head. She knew Olivia was only trying to help and that in many ways Olivia _was_ right, but now that she was looking at Harry and seeing the anger written so clearly on his features, the guilt came crawling back. It was starting to worm away at her. The longer Harry remained silent, the worse she felt.

Finally, Hermione couldn't take it anymore. "Harry," she said, "say something."

Harry stopped dead in his tracks. "How _could_ you?" he asked in a low voice. "How could you do that? To Ron? To Aiden? How could you betray them?"

"I didn't mean…"

"I can't believe this, Hermione. Of all people, you! Cheating on Ron!" Hermione grimaced at that word. "How could you? How could you look at Ron or Aiden again? Your _husband_, Hermione. Your husband and your son, for Merlin's sake! How could you turn your back on them like that? Just walk away and betray the people you claim to love the most?"

Hermione shook her head. "Harry, please…"

But Harry was on a roll and picking up steam. "What were you bloody thinking? Were you even thinking? How could you be so completely stupid, Hermione? Have you gone mad? You made a vow, Hermione. You're a wife. You're a _mother_. What kind of shit terrible mother cheats on the father of her son like you did?"

He had gone too far. He had crossed the line. Hermione was fuming now. "How dare you," she seethed. "How _dare_ you stand there and accuse _me_…"

"How dare I?" Harry repeated. "Name one thing I've said wrong. You were kissing Malfoy. I bloody saw you two! Is that what you've been doing while Ron's been out working his ass off to support your family?"

"You know I'd be working if I could! You know that isn't my choice!"

Harry wasn't listening though. "And to think, Ron loves and trusts you so much. How long, Hermione? How long have you been seeing Malfoy?"

"How long have _you_ been lying to me?" Hermione snapped back.

Harry's eyes widened. "Wh-what?"

"You heard me," Hermione said nastily. "How long have you been lying to me about Malfoy?"

"How… What…?" Harry looked completely bewildered… and afraid.

Hermione stood up and stared him in the eye. "That's right, Harry," she said. "I remember. I remember that Malfoy was in the Order. And I remember that three years ago, Draco and I were in love."

"You…"

"Yes." Hermione's eyes flashed. "I remember everything."

Harry was silent for a long time. "How long have you known?"

"Not long," Hermione said quietly.

"When did you start remembering?"

"When the _Prophet_ did an article on him. I didn't fully remember until a couple weeks ago though."

Harry sighed heavily. "So you did start to remember," he said slowly. "I was afraid you might."

"How could you, Harry?" Hermione shook her head. "How could you keep that from me? How could you _lie_ to me like that?"

"What choice did we have, Hermione?"

Hermione sputtered. "What _choice_ did you have? You could have not lied to me! You could have told me the truth!"

"But Hermione, don't you remember…?"

"No, instead, you kept it from me these last three years. You lied to me when I asked you about it. You had your chance to explain, but you didn't. You, Ron, Ginny, everyone… you all lied to me, didn't you? You all knew!"

Harry looked at her desperately. "Hermione, honestly, we did what we thought was best…"

"You thought it was _best_ to lie to me?" Hermione spat out in disbelief. "You thought it was _best_? What kind of idiotic thing to say is that? You thought it was best?!"

"Hermione, please… you know Ron and I care about you…"

"And yet you saw fit to lie to me!" Harry hung his head. Hermione shook hers. "I can't believe you two. You call yourself my best friend, Harry. What sort of lousy person lies to his best friend?"

"The sort that doesn't want to see you hurt!" Harry reached over and took her arm. "Please, listen to me, Hermione…"

"No!" Hermione tore her arm away from him. "I don't care to hear anything you have to say. It's all rubbish! Rubbish."

Harry looked hurt and angry. "So that somehow makes it okay for you to go flouncing off with Malfoy?"

"Don't change the subject, Harry."

"I'm not."

"You are!"

"Regardless of what happened three years ago," Harry barreled on, "right now is what matters. And right now, you're with Ron. What you're doing is wrong, Hermione. You are married to Ron…"

"Only because you lied to me!"

"No, Hermione, _no. _I know you love Ron…"

"How could I love someone who lied to me?"

"He's not…"

"He _is_."

"No, I mean that he's not the…"

Hermione cut him off. "I don't care what you say, Harry. These last three years have been a lie. The life I'm living now is a _lie_. My marriage with Ron is a lie! Everything… It's all… It's a sham! Everything between me and Ron is a complete sham!"

Silence. Harry leaned against the wall and rubbed his head. "So what now?" he asked. "What are you going to do?"

Hermione hesitated. "I… I don't know," she admitted. "I'm just not sure."

"Are you going to leave Ron? For Malfoy?" Harry straightened and looked imploringly at Hermione. "For _Malfoy_, Hermione. You remember what he did, don't you? It was so terrible and… How could you forgive him, even after…?"

"You asked me that three years ago," Hermione said. "My answer is the same. I love him… that's how I can forgive him."

"Even love has boundaries," Harry replied.

"Not mine."

"_Malfoy_, Hermione," Harry repeated. "It's _Malfoy…_"

"I haven't decided anything yet, Harry."

Harry started to say something and then seemed to think better of it. He nodded. "You have to tell Ron."

"I know."

"You need to tell him soon."

Hermione nodded. Hesitantly, she started, "Harry…"

"What?"

"Do you hate me?"

Harry smiled grimly at her. "No, Hermione, I could never do that. I don't understand what you're doing, and I am disappointed in you… But, Hermione, you're my best friend. I love you, no matter what you decide. I just hope you make the right decision."

"I suppose you think that would be staying with Ron."

'Yes," Harry said, "and not just because Ron's my best friend nor because I loathe Malfoy. I don't want to see you hurt again, Hermione. You deserve better."

"I'll decide that," Hermione said coolly.

Harry sighed. "I suppose," he replied.

Neither said anything for a while. "You should go," Hermione finally said. "Ginny will be wondering where you are."

"Talk to him," Harry urged.

"I know."

Harry gave Hermione a hard look before finally turning to go. Hermione started to feel slightly restless and uneasy.

"Harry…"

He spun back around. "What?"

"Don't say anything to Ginny… or anyone else."

"I won't," Harry replied. "At least, not until you say something." With that, he stalked off out of Hermione's view. Hermione heard a soft popping noise and she knew Harry was gone.

x x x

Ron was having a pretty good day. It was a light day at work, and being a Friday, most people had their mind on the weekend already. He, for one, was looking forward to spending time with his wife and son. Harry had left shortly after lunch (starting his weekend early, thought Ron), so there wasn't much activity in the office.

Ron whistled cheerfully as he walked down the hall. Not much work to be done this weekend, so he really could have some family time. Tomorrow would be Saturday. Maybe he and Hermione should take Aiden to the park to look at the ducks. Aiden always liked feeding the ducks.

His stomach growled. It was still early, but he was hungry. _I wonder what Hermione has made for dinner_, he thought. _Shepherd's pie? Oh, Merlin, I hope not… Hermione's shepherd's pie is absolutely dreadful…_

After Apparating just outside his home, Ron opened the front door. There was no one in sight.

"Hermione?" Ron poked his head around, looking for his wife and son. _Did they go visit Mum? _he wondered. _Hermione didn't mention going out today…_

Maybe Hermione was preparing dinner? Ron walked into the kitchen and was surprised to find the normally organized and orderly kitchen in disarray. Ron's eyes opened with delight when he spotted the muffins sitting on the kitchen table. Hermione hadn't made muffins in a really long time. Gleefully, Ron grabbed one and stuffed it into his mouth.

"'ermyyee?" Ron called out through his mouthful of muffin. He wandered through the kitchen and into the living room. Hermione was sitting very silently on the sofa. Her eyes were downcast, her legs crossed, and her hands folded in her lap.

"Hermione!" he exclaimed. Ron swallowed. "Here you are!" Ron walked over and tried to kiss her on the cheek. She pulled away.

Ron frowned. He looked his wife in the eyes, but she was still looking down at the floor. She seemed strangely evasive. "'Mione, is something wrong?"

Finally, she lifted her eyes to meet his. For some reason, Ron started to feel very uneasy. "Hermione?"

"Ron, we need to talk."

x x x

Her husband looked at her with troubled eyes. Hermione felt her heart racing. _What am I doing? What am I doing? What am I doing?_

"Okay," Ron said uncertainly. He sat down next to Hermione. "What about?"

"About… about something." Hermione shifted in her seat. "Ron, I don't know how to say this…"

Ron smiled widely. "Well, you know you can tell me anything, 'Mione."

Why was he making this so bloody hard? Hermione bit her lip hard, trying to find the right words. How does a woman confess to her husband that she's cheating on him? The guilt was coming back. There he was, sitting in front of her, smiling disarmingly, looking her straight in the face as if he had nothing to hide. For a brief moment, Hermione almost changed her mind. She was almost convinced that she truly did love Ron. But when she blinked, that moment was gone, and she came back to her senses.

"Ron," she said quietly, "I know."

"Know what?" Ron's face betrayed nothing – only confusion.

"About three years ago," Hermione replied. "I know about… everything about Draco."

At the sound of Draco's name, Ron's face clouded over and his body completely stiffened. "What?" he asked through gritted teeth.

For some reason, this gave her confidence. "I remember everything," she said, elaborating. "Since the article in _The Prophet_. I did research in the library and I learned more… and it started coming back to me." Hermione looked at Ron, but he remained motionless. "And I remembered everything… bits at first, but more came back to me. I remembered it all. And I remembered loving…"

"Don't you dare say it," Ron spat out. "Don't you bloody _dare_ to say that you even cared for that filthy bastard!"

Hermione leaped up. "Don't you call him that!"

"But he is!" Ron yelled, getting up out of his seat as well.

"No," Hermione said, shaking her head angrily. "He's twice the man you are, you _liar. _You _lied_ to me, Ron! You said you loved me and you _lied_ to me…"

"Hermione, I _do_…"

"But you lied to me, Ron! How could you?"

"Hermione, I promise on my _life_, I did what…"

Hermione laughed mockingly. "Don't you even _try_ to claim you did what was best and that you had no choice. You always have a choice. You could have told me… but you decided not to. That was your choice. You lied to me about Draco these last three years."

"And if I did?" Ron threw up his arms. "I did what was in your best interest! Believe me, Hermione, I really had no choice! I couldn't… I couldn't _bear_ to see you…"

"You did it, didn't you, Ron?" she asked suddenly. Hermione narrowed her eyes. "You modified my memory."

Ron said nothing. He stared down at his feet.

"I can't _believe_ it!" Hermione screeched. "You _modified _my memory?! How could you! And you can stand here and look me in the face and claim to love me!"

"Hermione, you have no idea!" Ron grabbed her hands. "Please, Hermione, I don't know what lies Malfoy has told you…"

"The only person," Hermione spat out, ripping her hands away from him, "who has lied to me is _you_."

Ron stared at her. "You've been seeing him, haven't you? You've been seeing him behind my back."

"I can't deny that I have."

Ron exploded. "You've been seeing that repulsive excuse for a human being? Is that what you do in your spare time? And you claim that you're _tired_, that you have to watch our son… Do you even care about Aiden? Do you bloody care about your own flesh and blood?"

"Don't bring him into this! Of course I care about him!"

"You have a shoddy way of showing it!"

"I care more about him than…"

"And what have you been doing with Malfoy, hm?" Ron crossed his arms.

"I don't have to tell you that," Hermione replied in disgust.

"You dirty whore!" Ron bellowed. In a fit of rage, he slapped Hermione across the face.

Hermione stood there, holding her cheek where Ron's hand had met hers. She blinked back tears. He had _hit_ her. He called her a whore.

Ron, too, looked astonished. He stared at his hand in disbelief at what he had just done. Regret flashed across his face. "Merlin, Hermione, I'm so _sor…"_

"I… I don't have to take this anymore." A single tear rolled down her face. "I thought maybe we could talk… figure something out… I should have known better…" Hermione tried desperately to control herself. "I… I can't be with you anymore, Ron. I'm sorry."

"Hermione, no! Hermione, I'm so sorry! I'm so stupid, please, don't…" Ron followed Hermione as she swiftly walked out of the living room. "Hermione, listen… I'm a bloody idiot, please… Don't leave… You _can't_…"

"I can, and I will." Hermione pulled away from him. "Goodbye, Ron."

x x x

Monday was a dreadfully long way off, Draco mused. He wasn't sure what he would do to fill the time until then… It was a sort of pitiful existence he now had. Draco had little to live for other than his meetings with Hermione… but they gave him every reason to live. Being with her reminded him how truly wonderful it was to be alive.

_Maybe I'll learn how to cook, _he thought as he headed towards the kitchen. Draco was amused at this thought. Him? In a kitchen? Maybe he could get an apron and the whole works. Cooking seemed like a rather useful thing to know. He could learn how to make something actually edible. Though, he had house elves for that. He could just tell them what he wanted to eat and they'd have it ready in a minute.

Speaking of which, he had to decide what he wanted tonight. What was he in the mood for? Or maybe he'd ask Mother what she wanted…

There was a loud crack, and Hetty appeared before him. She looked somewhat more hysterical than usual. "Young master!" she squeaked. "There you is!"

"Hetty, I was just looking for you," Draco said smoothly. "For dinner…"

"No, young master, there is something more important! Young miss is here!"

Draco frowned. "Young miss?"

"_Your_ young miss, sir!"

Immediately, Draco's heart dropped. "Hermione?" he asked in astonishment. "But why…?"

"Please come to the front hallway, sir! Young miss is very distressed and needs to see you!"

"I'll be right there, Hetty. You go to the kitchen and prepare some tea for her."

Hetty nodded and disappeared.

Draco practically ran to the front hallway. What was Hermione doing here? Hetty mentioned that she was distressed… was something wrong? Was she hurt?

When he reached the front hallway, Draco spotted her, standing near the centre, her back to him. She looked… okay. "Hermione?" he asked.

She turned around and he instantly saw that he was wrong. She _wasn't_ okay. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. Hermione ran towards him.

"Oh, Draco!" She buried herself into his arms. "Oh, God, Draco…"

Draco was slightly taken aback by this. He carefully wrapped his arms around her. "Shhh," he whispered soothingly into her ear. "It's all right. It's okay. I'm here… You're okay now."

When her sobs had died down, Draco tilted her face gently upwards so he could look at her. "What's wrong?" he asked gently.

Hermione sniffed. "H… Harry saw us," she whispered.

Draco's insides twisted. "I see," he said.

"Harry saw us… and I knew… I knew I had to tell Ron, and I _did…_ and we had a huge row." Hermione bit her lip and shook her head furiously against Draco's chest. "Oh, God, Draco, it was so _terrible_. He said I was a terrible mother, that I didn't care about Aiden…"

"You're everything but," Draco said firmly. "And you love Aiden. That much should be obvious, even to a blithering idiot like Weasley."

Hermione nodded. "It got so out of hand… He… he called me a whore… and he hit me…"

"He did _what?_"

"He slapped me."

"That coward!" Draco was completely furious. How could any man dare to lay a hand on his wife? How could _anyone_ touch his Hermione? "That damned, weasely coward!" He gripped Hermione more tightly as if protecting her. "I'll get him," Draco growled. "I'll get him…"

"No." Hermione's voice was unwavering now.

Draco looked down at Hermione in confusion. "Hermione, that man hit you. He needs to know he _can't do that_. He's your _husband…_"

"Not anymore."

Draco stared at her. Did she really just say what he thought she did? His ears were ringing. "What?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "I'm leaving him, Draco. I can't be with him anymore. It's too much… and I… I _love_ you. I love you so much. I need… to be with you. I need _you_. I can't live lying to myself anymore. I love you. I want to be with you… if you'll have me," she added a little uncertainly.

"Don't be daft, Granger," Draco said in a gruff voice. He leaned down and kissed her. She was here, in his arms, his again. He held her more tightly, not wanting to feel anything but the touch of her lips and the warmth of her presence.


	20. As Long as You're Mine

**AN: **Wow. Even in my wildest dreams, I would have _never_ anticipated that it would take until the new year for this next update to make it.

It was hard, in a way. I already know how this plot will go, and there are main points in my head. The difficult part is making it go from one point to the next. Sometimes I'm not sure what the best way to maneuver is. And I end up getting stuck. But I finally sat myself down and forced myself to pound out this chapter, and it turned out much better than I would have expected. It's also frightfully long. It was either going to be really short or really long, so I opted for the latter. Don't expect subsequent updates to be this long! It just happened that this chapter flowed naturally like this.

Thank you to all my reviewers. Without you - and the persistent reminding from my dear friend Olivia - this chapter surely would not exist. So this one is dedicated to you.

* * *

**Stand and Watch It Burn**

**XX. As Long as You're Mine**

Draco let his eyes glide over to the curtained windows and noted with little shock that the early rays of dawn were starting to peek through the gossamer fabric. He knew he had been sitting there, in that chair, for a very long while. Seeing the sun start to rise merely confirmed that.

The events of the previous night still had him reeling. He had wondered, usually under the cover of darkness and between the realms of conscious and unconscious, what it might be like if Hermione ever chose to leave Ron. He imagined this perfect world for himself, where he and Hermione lived and loved without fear of retribution. But he had never dared to allow himself to _hope_. Imagine, speculate, wonder – yes. But hope? The disappointment he would have felt might have been enough to destroy what little shreds of humanity he had left.

But now, every dream, every fantasy, every wish was coming true. And if he ever started to doubt that, all Draco had to do was to look to the sleeping form on the bed for proof.

_She was there._ And she _had_ come to him the night before.

Hermione had been in quite a state when he first saw her, but as time passed, her sobs became less frantic, and she grew calmer. Finally, she had fallen asleep out of pure exhaustion. Draco had taken her into his arms and brought her up here, to one of the guest rooms. As he laid her down, she briefly opened her eyes and begged him to stay nearby. He consoled her, saying he would and she contentedly returned to sleep.

Truth be told, Draco would have stayed even if she hadn't asked. Nor would he have fallen asleep. No, he would have been too afraid that it was all a dream. He would be too afraid of closing his eyes and then awaking to find her gone.

It was surreal. Draco stared into her lovely, serene face, her brown curls messily framing it. He smiled softly. She was so beautiful. He realised that he had nearly forgotten that and mentally reprimanded himself.

He didn't want the night to end. Everything seemed… felt… _was_ so perfect. Draco couldn't remember ever feeling so perfectly whole. His eyes traced the soft contours of Hermione's face. Such pure bliss was something almost completely foreign to him; an empty childhood and three years in Azkaban had made sure of that. If it weren't for those few months with Hermione three years ago, he might not have even recognized it. But here it was, again. And he didn't know how long it would stay.

Draco knew he had to protect her. She seemed so vulnerable. And she had been. Last night. Yes, he had to protect her, to shield her, to hide her away…

The bed sheets rustled softly. Hermione opened her eyes and gazed around confusedly before her eyes finally rested on him. She gave him a bemused smile. "What are you doing?" Her voice was soft, with traces of sleep lingering.

"Watching you," he replied, leaning over. "Protecting you."

"I don't need to be protected," Hermione replied, feigning indignance.

Draco smirked. "That scene last night would prove otherwise."

Hermione grinned and then yawned. "Draco."

"Mm?"

"I was thinking…"

"You often do."

Hermione shot him a dirty look. Draco noted that Hermione was starting to become more alert, and that it would probably be wise to be aware of that.

"I'm serious," she said. This time, the irritation in her tone was authentic.

"All right, what?"

"I was thinking about Aiden." Hermione sounded wistful. "I… I don't know what to do… Last night I was in such a rush to get out of there as fast as I could, I just left him back there. I _love_ Aiden. I can't not be with him… so…"

Draco shushed her and stroked her hair. "Hermione, I love you," he said plainly. "Anything you want is yours. If you want Aiden here, bring him."

Hermione's brown eyes were wide with wonder. "Thank you," she whispered. "You don't know how much that means to me."

Draco pulled her gently into his arms and felt her collapse against him. He breathed in her scent, never wanting to let go.

x x x

_Kiss me too fiercely  
Hold me too tight_  
_I need help believing  
You're with me tonight  
My wildest dreaming  
Could not foresee  
Lying beside you  
With you wanting me_

x x x

"Ron, you better have a good exp… bloody hell!"

Harry stared at the mess before him. The usually orderly home was in a state. Cushions of the pillows were strewn on the floor, wall hangings had fallen off their hooks, the kitchen was covered in flour and dirtied pans. Nobody had bothered to draw the curtains so the entire room was dark. Harry shook his head. "_Lumos_," he muttered. He didn't want to trip over the clutter.

"Ron?" he asked, beginning to fear the worst. "Hermione?"

In the distance, he could hear muffled wailing. "Oh, Merlin, _Aiden_," he exclaimed. He dashed up the stairs and made a beeline for Aiden's room. Harry paused at the doorway, his Auror instincts taking over. He held his wand ready in front of him and cautiously entered the room.

Nothing. No one. No sign of Dark Magic. Just a crying baby.

Perplexed, Harry walked over to where Aiden lay, wailing. He frowned. Something wasn't right. It was nearly eleven. Why was Aiden still in his bedclothes? Hermione would have…

The blood drained from his face. _Hermione_.

Harry picked Aiden up and made for the master bedroom. The door, as he had suspected, was closed. He knocked firmly.

"Ron, open up."

No response.

Harry let out a sigh of exasperation. He tried the doorknob, but it was locked "Ron, I know you're in there. Open the bloody door."

Silence.

"If you don't open this damn door, _I_ will." Harry adjusted his glasses, preparing himself for physical exertion. No doubt Ron had put all necessary charms to keep people out. As a trained Auror, Ron had to know about these things, and doubtless, knew every way Harry would try to get in. But Ron didn't know about Muggle tactics – that is to say, breaking down the door.

Setting Aiden down, Harry stepped back and rested his right foot against the door. Taking a deep breath, he prepared. He lifted his leg and was about to try to kick the door when it swung open.

Harry gaped at the sight in front of him. He thought the house was in a state, but it was absolutely nothing compared to Ron. Ron hadn't bothered to change out of his work robes, but they were disheveled and slackened. Though he was still standing, it was clear from the unsteady wobbling Ron was doing that he had been drinking. A lot. The room reeked of Firewhiskey.

"'Arry," Ron slurred, tilting a lopsided smile. "It's youu."

"Ron, what the bloody _hell_?" Harry ran his hand through his hair. "What is all this? Is this why you didn't come in to work today?"

Ron hiccupped. "Wan' som firewhiskee?" he asked, holding up the bottle.

Harry grabbed the liquor out of his best friend's hand. "I think you've had enough."

"Give it back!" Ron reached forward, stumbling as he did.

Harry levitated the bottle over their heads, above Ron's reach. "No," he said firmly. Ron scowled and stomped back into the room, throwing himself onto the unmade bed.

Harry leaned over and picked Aiden up and walked into the room as well. Aiden had stopped crying and now was looking around intently, wondering with confusion what was happening.

"Ron, what happened?" Harry started to feel nervous now. The anger was leaving him and slowly he began to recall what he had been thinking earlier. "Did something happen with Hermione?"

"Oh, God," Ron moaned. He covered his face with his hands. "Oh, God, Harry."

"She told you," Harry deadpanned.

Ron sat up. "You knew?" Ron seemed to be sobering up slightly. "You _knew?!_"

"So she did."

"You_ knew _and you didn't tell me?"

"_It wasn't my place_." Harry shook his head. "Ron, I love you and Hermione, but I can't get in between you two and mix in your affairs. That was something between you – I had no place in dealing with that. It was something she had to tell you…"

"YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME!" Ron roared. Aiden burst into tears at this loud explosion of noise.

Harry gently shushed Aiden. "Ron, keep your damn voice down," he muttered. "Your son, for Merlin's sake. How could you leave him there crying, unchanged and unfed?"

"Why do _you_ care so much?" Ron leaped up, flailing his arms. "Since when did_you_ care so much about me?" He turned round on Harry. "Or maybe it's_you_. Maybe it's not Malfoy she's seeing. Maybe it's _you_. Is that what you've been bloody hiding from you? You rat-faced bast…"

With his free arm, Harry punched Ron across the jaw. Ron recoiled, clutching where Harry's fist had made contact with his face.

"Get a bloody hold of yourself," Harry growled. "You're acting like a loony."

Harry heard some laboured breathing, and for a while, he was worried he'd punched Ron _too_ hard. He had intended to snap Ron's insanity, not to actually hurt him. But soon, Harry realised Ron was sobbing.

"Harry, it was terrible. _I_ was terrible… I said… I did…"

Harry set Aiden down and knelt down by Ron, putting a comforting hand on his friend's back. "What happened?"

Ron stared up blankly at Harry, tears rolling down his face. "She told me."

"What did you say?" Harry asked gently.

"I… I told her I had no choice… I called her a terrible mother… Merlin, why? How could I? She loves Aiden… I said she didn't care about him… Why did I do that?" Ron dropped his head into his hands.

Harry's blood ran cold. The accusations sounded familiar. He knew too well how Hermione would react to that.

"I called her a whore," Ron whispered.

"Ron…"

"And then," he continued, his voice barely audible, "I hit her."

Harry was sure his heart stopped.

"You… You did _what?_"

"I hit her," Ron repeated with more conviction. "I called her a dirty whore and then I slapped her across the face."

Harry straightened up. "Ron, what the _fuck_ were you thinking?!"

"She's been seeing Malfoy." Ron slumped against the wall.

"I know that, Ron, but she was trying to talk to you, for Merlin's sake. You hit her? You bloody damn fool! Now you've done and driven her off right into Malfoy's arms!"

Ron laughed humorlessly. "I didn't need to do that," he said. "She was already his. She was always his."

"Ron don't you bloody say that. She loves you and you know it."

"Does she?" Ron looked up at Harry. "For three years, we hid the truth from her. She never knew she stopped loving me. Maybe she's right. Maybe it's all a lie."

"Ron…"

"Oh, God." Ron groaned. "I've lost her. Again."

"You don't know that."

"She knows." Ron stared blankly at Harry. "She asked me if I was the one who modified her memory. She knows."

Harry opened his mouth several times before he managed to get the words out. "Did you at least _try_ to explain…?"

"What good would it do? She's listening to everything he's saying. And nothing _we're_ saying."

"But…"

"It's no use, Harry," Ron said, defeated. "I've lost her. Merlin."

Neither said anything for a while. Harry shifted his weight from foot to foot. "There has to be _something_…"

There was a loud clang from the living room. The two men stared at each other briefly before both bolted downstairs.

Harry nearly crashed into Ron who stood fixated at the foot of the steps. He followed Ron's gaze to the figure standing in the doorframe leading to the living room.

"Hermione?"

She blinked and then set her jaw. Hermione looked very put together and clean, though her eyes were still swollen. She had cried, Harry thought.

"I'm here to take Aiden and go," she said, her tone very businesslike and formal. "I had thought you wouldn't be here," she added, clearly meaning Ron.

"Hermione," Ron rasped, reaching out toward her.

Hermione brushed by him, pushing his arm aside. "Where's my son?" she asked, this time addressing Harry.

"Upstairs, in the hallway," Harry replied softly. He leaned to the side, allowing Hermione to pass.

The two stood in silence, listening to the sounds of Hermione moving about upstairs. A few minutes passed before Hermione descended, a bag slung over her shoulder and Aiden in her other arm. She walked by the two again, not once even looking their way. Hermione passed them and headed toward the fireplace.

"I'll be going then," she said, her head turned back over her shoulder. Hermione conjured up some flames and threw Floo Powder into the fireplace.

The bright green flames seemed to revive the comatose Ron. "Hermione, you –" he shook his head violently, as if to clear it, Harry theorized – "you can't do this."

Hermione abruptly stopped her movements. She turned around slowly. "What?" she asked. Harry recognized the tone she was using – and instantly knew this coming altercation would not end happily for either party.

"You can't do this," Ron repeated, more loudly this time. "You can't just take our son and g-"

"He's_my_ son," Hermione shot back, wrapping a possessive arm around Aiden.

"Ours," Ron said again, taking a step towards her. "Hermione, please, don't… you can't do this to Aiden… he needs a family. He needs a father. You can't just take him away…"

"He doesn't need a father like you." Hermione's eyes were dark. "And I can. And I will."

Ron was still moving towards her. "Hermione, listen. Please, listen," he pleaded. "You know I love you and would never, _ever_ hurt y-"

Hermione laughed, sending chills down Harry's spine. Her laughter was completely devoid of emotion or joy, something Harry would have never thought Hermione was capable of.

"Never hurt me?" Hermione asked, her voice hollow. "Do I need to remind you of what you did last night? You _hit_ me, Ron. You hit me and you called me a terrible mother – "

"Hermione, please!" Ron tried to throw his arms around her, but Hermione quickly stepped backwards. Her face contorted with disgust.

"You're drunk, Ron."

"Hermione, I can't live without you." As much as Harry sympathized with his friend, it was starting to get a bit pathetic. Harry watched as Ron fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around Hermione's legs.

"You should have thought about that before, then," Hermione said, stepping outside his grasp.

Ron fell over on his side, sobbing. Hermione stood, staring, not moving.

Then, the silence was broken by mumbling from Ron.

"What did you say?" Hermione asked.

"Where are you going?"

Hermione visibly stiffened.

"You're going to _him_, aren't you?" Ron's fists were clenched.

"I don't know what you mean," Hermione said.

"I'm not stupid, Hermione. Maybe you think I am, but I'm not. You're going to him, and you're taking our son with you." Ron straightened up and looked down at her. "You are, aren't you?"

"And if I am?" she asked defiantly.

Ron grabbed her arms and shook her. "Hermione, what are you thinking? You can't… you _can't do this_… Hermione, look at me. Please, just look at me!"

"Let go of me, Ron." Hermione squirmed, trying to get out of his hold.

"Hermione,_please…"_

"Let go! Ron, _you're hurting me_!"

Harry strode across the room and pulled his friend away. "Ron, stop."

Ron stared blankly at his wife, who refused to meet his eyes. "Mione – "

"Don't call me that."

"Do you love him?"

Hermione took a deep breath, but did not answer.

"Do you?" Ron repeated, more insistently.

"Yes," she answered quietly.

"And me?"

Hermione finally looked at him. "Is it possible to love two people at the same time?" she asked.

"I don't know," Ron mumbled.

"I don't either," she replied. After one last fleeting glance, Hermione turned back to the fire and disappeared.

x x x

_Just for this moment  
As long as you're mine  
I've lost all resistance  
And crossed some borderline  
And if it turns out  
It's over too fast  
I'll make every last moment last_

_As long as you're mine_

x x x

Draco paced back and forth in front of the fireplace impatiently. She had been gone too long for his liking. He checked the large grandfather clock for the tenth time in the past three minutes. He crossed his arms as if the timepiece had offended him somehow. Too much time had elapsed, he thought. How long, he mused, until he should go after her?

"Young master?"

The words snapped Draco out of his thoughts. "Hetty?" He turned around to face the house elf standing in the doorway.

"Mistress would like to know if sir will be joining her for tea this afternoon."

His mother. Draco felt his stomach twist slightly. How on earth would he explain his… guest? "No, I will not," he said smoothly, his voice not betraying any of the turmoil he felt inside. "Tell her I shall be tending my gardens if she needs me."

Hetty nodded. "Where is sir's young miss?"

"She will be here soon," Draco replied, shooting a look at the empty fireplace. He kneeled down so he was looking the elf in the eyes. "Look, Hetty, you have to remember –"

"Not to mention her to Mistress," Hetty finished for him. She smiled affectionately at her master. "Hetty knows, sir."

"Good," Draco said. Behind him, he heard some noises and coughing.

"Looks like young miss has returned," Hetty commented. "Shall I get tea and biscuits?"

"That would be perfect, Hetty. Bring them to the garden. And prepare one of the guest rooms for Hermione and her son."

Hetty bowed her head and disappeared with a crack.

Draco rose from his kneeling position and turned to face the fireplace. An ash-covered Hermione was coughing as she made her way across the room.

"You really should clean your fireplace," she commented wryly.

"I like my guests blackened," Draco replied, kissing her on the forehead.

"Ha ha." She twisted her lips, trying to hide her smile. "Sorry about making you wait," Hermione said softly. "I ran into a few unexpected problems."

Draco looked into her troubled eyes. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine – I think," she added uncertainly. Hermione shifted Aiden from one arm to another. "Aiden is not quite as fine though. He needs changing and food."

Draco looked at the little red-haired child in Hermione's arms. A fleeting feeling of disgust for Weasley rushed in before his devotion to the child's mother swept it aside. "Here," Draco said, "let me hold him. You must be exhausted."

Hermione nodded and placed Aiden into Draco's outstretched arms. Aiden protested meekly, wailing weakly.

Draco was rather inexperienced with children. He had never before come into contact with babies other than the passing glance or perfunctory meetings. He stared dumbly at the crying baby.

"Comfort him, silly," Hermione chided.

"How the bloody hell do I do that?"

"Sing. Rock him back and forth. Pat him on the back. Shush him."

Draco hesitated slightly before he began rocking Aiden gently. "There now," he said when Aiden's crying had died down, "you're all right." He looked down at the little boy. Aiden was staring up at him, this stranger, his bright blue eyes still wet with tears. There was something in his gaze, Draco thought. His red hair may have been distinctly Weasley, but there was something in the boy's eyes that Draco recognized – something wholly Hermione.

"Well, we should go," Draco said, finally glancing up. He noticed Hermione looking at him rather oddly. "Hermione?"

"Wha- oh, yes," she said, sounding slightly distracted.

"What's the matter?"

Hermione pressed her lips together. "I was just…" she cleared her throat. "I was worried, Draco, about how you might treat Aiden…"

"Because he's Weasley's son?"

Hermione nodded mutely.

Draco moved in next to her, leaning in closely. "But he's also _your_ son, and I love you. More than anything. Whatever matters to you matters to me. I never want to lose you again, Hermione, and I'll do everything and anything I can to protect you from being hurt. I don't want to… I can't lose you," he added with a whisper.

Hermione gently placed a hand on Draco's face. She smiled softly. "You won't," she replied before closing the minute distance between them. Her lips on his sent jolts through his body.

She pulled away much sooner than he would have liked. Draco frowned in protest. "Well," Hermione said teasingly, a smirk growing on her face, "I think it's time for tea."

Draco laughed. "Let's get you two cleaned up."

x x x

_Every moment  
As long as you're mine  
I'll wake up my body  
And make up for lost time_

x x x

It was a relatively cool day. The sun was shining bright, but the warmth was tempered by a comfortable breeze. The colourful blossoms swayed gently in the wind, and the soft rustle of leaves chimed in the air, singing their sweet song.

Hermione felt a smile spread across her lips. She closed her eyes, letting the sun warm her face.

"Hermione?"

She turned around. "Draco," she replied, smiling and holding her hand out to him.

He returned her smile and took her outstretched hand. "I went to your room to look for you, but you weren't there. Hetty told me you decided to go ahead to the gardens first, and I see that you've found them."

"It's beautiful. Even more so than last time we were here."

Draco's smile widened. "You remember." He pulled her in towards him, wrapping one arm around her waist.

Hermione leaned her head against her shoulder. "I do."

- - -

"_I still can't believe you convinced Harry into this."_

"_There was nowhere else safe left for us. Where else could we go? Besides, they would never suspect this."_

"_Are you crazy, Draco? If they caught us here, we'd be done for!"_

_Hermione waved her hands wide as if to demonstrate just how _done for_ they would be. Draco merely smirked and kissed her on the cheek. "You look really beautiful when you're frantic," he said, ignoring her._

_Hermione brushed him away. "I still think this is ridiculous. And unsafe. Are you _trying_ to die, Malfoy?"_

"_Oooh, ouch," Draco said, holding a hand over his chest. "Usage of the surname. That hurts."_

"_I'm serious, Draco."_

"_I know you are. And so am I. Lupin and Potter agree. We'll be safe here in the Manor until the necessary changes to the cabin are made, so we can go back. Hermione," he said, his voice suddenly lowering, "I would never, ever put you in a position where you could possibly be hurt. Don't you know that?"_

_Hermione blinked. "I just think you're letting your emotions cloud your judgment."_

"_Emotions?"_

"_Your mother's not there, Draco."_

_His face immediately darkened. "I know that," he said, scowling._

"_But you're holding out hope she will be, aren't you?" Draco did not immediately respond. "Draco…"_

"_Don't." He stepped away from her. "Come on," he finally said after a while. _

_Hermione sighed. "Draco," she said softly, "it's all right. I'm here." She gently placed a hand on his face._

_His hand covered hers. "I know," he said, finally looking her in the eyes. Hermione felt her world slowly go on tilt. Even now, one look from him could make her feel weak. _

- - -

"You really were crazy. And lucky we weren't found."

She saw his lips curl into a smirk. "No, Hermione. I'm just damned clever. Why can't you just admit that?"

Hermione had opened her mouth in protest but the words died in her throat when she looked into his eyes. _Damn him_, she thought.

"Where's Aiden?"

"In his room sleeping." Her fingers traced the outlines of his hands. "Where's your mother, Draco? I haven't seen her since I've been here."

"Never mind her." Draco had tried to keep his tone light, but Hermione knew him. His eyes remained steady and his face unchanged, but there was a slight unsteadiness in his voice that betrayed him. "There's something I want to show you."

He was trying to redirect the conversation. Hermione briefly considered pushing and asking again about his mother, but quickly changed her mind. She could ask again later. "Fine," she said. "But don't think I don't know what you're trying to do. Don't think you can try and pull a quick one over me. I know what you're doing."

Draco smirked. "I would never dare to assume that I've fooled you, Granger." He winked roguishly at her which elicited a genuine laugh from her. "But really, there is something I want to show you."

Hermione raised an eyebrow with curiosity. "What is it?"

Draco sighed dramatically. "Always so impatient." He crossed his arms and shook his head. "Now if I told you, what would be the point in showing you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't be so patronizing," she said, playfully hitting him. "You know I hate it when you do that."

He grinned at her and took her hand. "Come," he said.

Hermione let him lead her down the stone path. Everything seemed so oddly familiar. She'd been here before, she knew.

- - -

"_It's beautiful, Draco."_

_He had smirked widely when he heard her gushing. She hated it, but she let him have his moment. If she had been the reason behind these beautiful gardens, she would feel rather smug too. Most of the garden was still covered in snow. A light layer covered most of the flower beds, but the winter greenery was impeccable, considering that their master had not been there to tend to them for the last few months. Archways entangled with vines soared over stone pathways that twisted through the expansive gardens. The whole place was simply exquisite. In her mind, Hermione coloured in the green and white canvas with blossoms of every shade and hue._

"_I wish I could see it in the spring," she mused, pulling in her jacket around her as she made her way down one of the paths. It was a particularly cold winter this year. "It really is beautiful."_

"_Not as beautiful as you," he replied, shooting her a sideways glance._

_Hermione rolled her eyes. "Lame, Malfoy. You're losing your touch."_

"_I mean it," he said. She felt as if his grey eyes boring in to her soul. "You're the most beautiful thing in this world. I don't feel as if I ever knew anything until… I knew…" He hesitated. "You know, all my life, I didn't understand. I couldn't, really. And being here again –" his eyes quickly glanced around – "I'm reminded again of who I used to be… _what_ I used to be…" Draco's eyes left hers. She wanted desperately to look him in the eyes and tell him it was all right. But he avoided her glance. His hand gently brushed the bush to his side. "I tried so hard to get cold, heartless statues to feel. How I tried to express something to someone who didn't understand. And all the terrible things I did –"_

_Hermione reached out to him. "That's in the past now…"_

"_No, it's not!" He pulled away from her. "It never will be. Not as long as I live," he said coldly. "It'll always… always be a part of me. And I can't run from it. It's all around me. It's all… here. Even when I'm not here. I'm just pretending. I can't lie to myself…"_

"_Draco…"_

"_You don't understand." He sounded bitter now. "You couldn't. You've always been good. You've never done anything as despicable as I have. I don't deserve happiness, do I? If I suffered for the rest of my life, it wouldn't be enough…"_

"_Draco, stop." Hermione grabbed his hand. "Draco, look at me." He pressed his lips together and determinedly refused to meet her gaze. "Look at me," she repeated. Draco finally complied with her order. "You are right. You have done terrible things. But things aren't black and white. You can't just put everything in nice neat columns of 'right' or 'wrong'. That's not how things work." Hermione smiled wryly. "I never thought that until you happened to me."_

_The distraught look on Draco's face melted away slightly. "I love you," he said._

_Hermione felt her heart stop and then race with ecstasy. "What?" she whispered, trying to hide her elation. _

_Draco, understanding her more perfectly than she understood herself, smiled and kissed her._

"_I love you, too."_

- - -

Hermione pulled on Draco's arm, making him stop. He turned around, looking at her curiously. "What?" he asked.

"It was here." She looked around. Yes, it was. She remembered, though when they were last here, there hadn't been an abundance of poppies, dotting the flowerbed. "When you first said it."

"You remember," he said softly.

Hermione smiled. "Of course I do."

The look in his eyes made her feel so perfectly content, she would have been happy just standing there, just staring into them. But Draco was insistent. "Come," he said, tugging on her arm yet again.

Hermione sighed loudly. "What is so damned important that you want me to see?"

Draco didn't respond. "Close your eyes."

Hermione stared. "What?"

"Just do it."

"Why?"

"Because I want it to be a surprise."

"_Why_?"

"Granger, you ask too many questions," Draco said dryly, barely hiding his irritation.

"Fine." Hermione huffed. He was being silly, but she'd humour him. She closed her eyes. She felt him place his hands on her shoulders and allowed him to guide her. A loud metal gate slammed behind them.

"All right. Open them."

Hermione gasped at what she saw. She had thought the gardens outside were lovely, but nothing compared to the sight before her now. Clearly, this was where most of Draco's efforts went. Everything looked perfectly attended to. And in the middle of it all was a beautiful, flowering bush of white roses.

"Oh, Draco," she cried as she ran towards it. "Did you…?"

"Yes," he replied, anticipating her question. "For you."

For whatever silly reason, she felt tears well up in her eyes. "Oh, Merlin, now I feel stupid," she mumbled under her breath.

"Really?" Draco made a face of pretend shock. "Merlin, I've accomplished what no wizard has done before and what all the wizarding community had deemed impossible: make Hermione Granger feel stupid!"

"Shut up, you stupid git," she said, hitting him. "It's beautiful. I can't believe you remembered."

"How could I forget?" Draco murmured, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Ever since you were young, you loved white roses. And after you read _The Secret Garden, y_ou always dreamed of having your own secret garden full of them, but your parents never were the gardening type." He kissed her head. "Well, now you have it. I planted it here three years ago… but it didn't bloom until a few weeks ago. Almost as if it knew you were coming," he added wryly. "There's a bench by it too. I always imagined you could read by it."

"Oh, Draco." Hermione shook her head. "I… don't know what to say… or how to _thank you…_"

"You don't need to say anything or thank me. I did this for you, and after everything… it's the least I could do. I really don't des-"

"Draco, what is the meaning of this?" A cool voice Hermione did not immediately recognize cut in.

Hermione saw Draco's eyes suddenly narrow. After composing himself he turned to face the speaker. "Mother," he said evenly.

Hermione, too, turned and saw Narcissa Malfoy, standing in the gateway of the garden, arms crossed and face fuming. Her sage green robes set off her complexion, which, Hermione realised, was turning more green by the second…

"What is this… _thing_ doing in our household?" she asked icily.

"_Hermione_ is here as my guest."

"I suppose her brat is here as well?"

"Mother, you will be civil or you will hold your tongue."

Narcissa shot her son a glare. "That is no way to speak to your mother," she said angrily. "After all of this, you still won't listen to me? Do you want to suffer again?" She turned on Hermione. "What are you doing here? Are you trying to destroy what little my son has left?" she asked in a low, menacing voice. "Leave him! You're no good for him, you cheap, _slut_…"

"MOTHER!" Draco roared.

Hermione couldn't stand to hear anymore. She ran away, tears clouding her vision.

x x x

_Say there's no future  
For us as a pair  
And though, I may know  
I don't care  
_

x x x

_Knock, knock, knock._

"Hermione, I know you're in there." Draco leaned against the door which Hermione had magically locked. He rapped against the door again. "Hermione, please, open the door. You didn't come down for dinner. You must be starving."

No response.

Draco sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He should have anticipated this and mentally berated himself for not preparing for this. Though, his mother's outburst had surprised him. He had thought she would at least have put on a false pretence of politeness. He had expected his mother to be upset – what he _hadn't_ expected was her screaming and shouting at Hermione. Mother rarely raised her voice, let alone show emotion. Well, at least now he knew his mother was human.

But now, Hermione had locked herself up and refused to come out. He could open the door, overriding her charm, but he didn't feel right doing that. He wanted Hermione to open the door herself… though he was starting to doubt she would. He had been standing, knocking, and talking to the door for about ten minutes now. And she still hadn't responded.

"Hermione, please," he said, banging on the door again. "Let me talk to you."

Draco was about to give up when the door finally swung open. Hermione's hair was frazzled and her eyes slightly puffy. She had been crying, Draco realised, his heart sinking slightly.

"What?" she asked, her voice slightly hoarse.

"Hermione… I'm so sorry…"

Hermione laughed dryly. "It's not your fault that your mother thinks I'm a slut, Malfoy."

Draco grimaced slightly. He deserved that one, he reckoned. "Hermione, please… My mother is just… overreacting and being ridiculous. She doesn't…" His voice trailed off.

"She doesn't what, Draco? Mean it?" Hermione shot him a look. "We both know she does. She hates me."

"But I don't," Draco cut in. "Merlin, Hermione… I'm so sorry… I didn't want that to happen. I don't want to see you hurting… ever. Please, just… I love you and I can't… I can't lose you."

Hermione looked up at him. "Draco, why are you always so afraid of losing me?" she asked quietly.

Draco hesitated. "I…"

"I told you before," she said, her tone softening, "You won't. And I meant it. Look, I'm here. I did what no one thought I could do – I left Ron. Twice now. Both times, for you. Do you need anymore proof that I love you, Draco?" She looked at him, eyes wide. "Do you?"

_That's not the problem_. "No," Draco said aloud.

"Good," Hermione said, smiling.

"So… you forgive me?" Draco asked, grinning rather ridiculously at her.

Hermione laughed. "There's nothing to forgive." She kissed him softly, breaking away before he could deepen it further. "God… I almost forgot how wonderful this could be." Her eyes sparkled.

"Then let me remind you," Draco said, smirking. Hermione's scowl quickly changed to a look of surprise when he lifted her up off her feet. She dissolved into giggles as he carried her around, finally settling her down on the bed. He leaned in next to her.

"Draco… I love you."

Draco kissed her again. He felt her wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him in closer to her. He moved on top of her, so he was more comfortably positioned. One of his hands was reached out, stabilizing him, while the other was lost in Hermione's hair. Hermione's hands had left his neck and were now trailing up and down his back. Her kisses were growing more heated. Her hands were now moving to a place from which there was _no_ returning. Draco could feel himself starting to lose control. Summing up what was left of his will, he reluctantly pulled away.

Hermione's eyes opened with surprised. "What's wrong?"

"I just –" Draco tried to catch his breath. "We shouldn't… I don't want to do something you'll regret tomorrow."

"Don't be stupid, Malfoy. I'm a big girl. I know what I'm doing." Hermione put her arms around his neck again, pulling him back down.

"Are you sure?" Draco's mind was already clouding with desire.

Hermione nodded. "More sure than of anything else."

x x x  
_  
As long as you're mine_

x x x

A mile away from Malfoy Manor, someone was watching.

Hidden away in the thicket, there was someone.

Watching. Observing.

Deep in the shadows, there was a figure. Not moving. Silent.

Thinking. Planning. Plotting.

_Soon. Very soon._

* * *

**AN: ** I've never been very good at writing "lovey" scenes, so hopefully it wasn't _too_ cringeworthy. Anyway. There it is! For those of you h8ing Ron, he'll have his moment. I endeavor to make every character as realistic and complete as possible. You will find that no one character is completely bad or completely good. Hermione and Draco are happy now, but how long will it last? 


	21. The Last Night of the World

**AN: **Yay! The next chapter is here! Well, I think I'm rounding the track and reaching the last fourth of this story. Whew. It's been a journey. This chapter took a little bit longer than I thought because there were parts (namely the beginning and the second to last part) that took longer. One of the following scenes had been firmly planted in my mind since I began writing this, so it was a bit of a pleasure to finally be able to get it out!

Thanks to everyone who reviewed. It's great to know you're all still following this story, in spite of my lack of updates. You all deserve virtual hugs. :) And another thing - for those of you who have read Avici this story will stay _generally_ faithful to it, but not completely. I will not elaborate on that as I don't want to spoil it for anyone who hasn't read Avici, but given how this story has developed, there are things that will be inconsistent between the two stories.

That said, thank you to everyone for your thoughts and reviews. And I hope you enjoy this next installment.

* * *

**Stand and Watch it Burn**

**XXI. The Last Night of the World**

The next few days passed by relatively uneventfully and peacefully, even. Hermione savoured every moment. She slept well now – better than she had in the last few weeks. Waking every morning – next to a man who made her feel safe and perfect – was glorious. The happy life she thought she had before paled in comparison to this, she believed.

Every morning was roughly the same. Hermione would wake up early, as she was accustomed to, to look after Aiden. Having finished that, she would return to her room to find Draco already out of bed, preparing for the day. After changing out of her pyjamas and other menial grooming details, she, along with Aiden, would then head downstairs to the family dining room – a smaller version of the formal dining room but no less grandiose – where Draco would already be waiting for her, sitting at the table drinking tea and perusing _The Daily Prophet_. Breakfast was an understated but homey affair, which when finished, Draco, after a fleeting kiss on her cheek, would leave to tend to the many affairs related to the Malfoy estate.

Hermione spent most of her free time wandering the gardens with Aiden and perusing the library, waiting for Draco to return. Malfoy Manor's library was huge, rivaling even Hogwarts' collection. Hermione had gaped in awe when Draco first showed her the room, much to his amusement. (She had reacted the exact same way first time, he'd said.) Now that she did not have to tend to house duties (the elves took care of that which she protested until Draco flatly asked her if she thought she could manage a 40-room building herself) Hermione had plenty of time to read and write.

Hermione also spent most of her time avoiding Narcissa Malfoy. Not that she had to try too hard, as she was sure Narcissa was doing the same. Although their initial confrontation had been rather explosive, their subsequent meetings had been more subdued, though Narcissa did not bother to hide her obvious distaste for Hermione. Dinners became awkward, and even passing each other in the halls were uncomfortable. But such occurrences were few and far in between. For the most part, Narcissa seemed to do her best to pretend that Hermione was not there.

Still, it was a pleasant sort of living, if a bit too peaceful and a little boring. In spite of it all, every day seemed wonderful now.

Draco returned home most days sometime in the afternoon, and today was no different. Hermione had been reading in the library, curled up in one of the many green squishy armchairs scattered across the library.

He smiled when he finally found her. "Hiding from me?"

"You could say that," Hermione teased, not even bothering to look up from her book.

"Maybe I should just set up a bed here, instead of in your room?" he asked, leaning down and draping his arms around her.

"Ha ha." Hermione slammed the book shut. "You're so clever, Malfoy."

"Tell me something I _don't_ know, Granger." Hermione couldn't see him, but she could tell from the tone in his voice that he was smirking. Before she could snap back at him though, he had taken her hand and lifted her up out of her seat. "Come. It is time for tea."

Tea with Draco was always a pleasant thing. They would have tea in either the sun room or the garden, depending on the weather and Hermione's mood.

Conversation was usually light, ranging from topics such as things Aiden did that day to what Draco's lawyers wore. Heavier, more complicated topics were usually reserved for dinner, or after dessert. Today, though, Hermione noted that Draco seemed less conversational, more reserved than usual. The two sat in the garden and drank their tea in general silence.

"Are you happy?" Draco suddenly asked her.

"What?" Hermione asked with a bit of a start.

"Are you happy?" Draco repeated, though this time it sounded more like a statement than a question.

"Yes, of course," Hermione replied. She was confused. Draco seemed very perplexed by something, but she could not say what.

Draco drummed his fingers on the table, gazing out at the cheerful blossoms before looking back at Hermione. "I just want you to be happy."

"I am," Hermione said wholeheartedly.

He was quiet for a long while. Hermione wondered if she should speak, but before she could think of any words to break the silence, Draco spoke. "I don't know how long we can be like this."

"Like what?" Hermione sat up straight. "What are you going on about, Draco? Is something wrong?" She bit her lip. "You've been acting oddly today." Hermione reached across and placed her hand on his. "Draco, look at me. What's wrong?"

Draco looked at her, his gaze steady. "It's nothing," he said. A restrained smile spread slowly across his face, but not quite reaching his eyes which remained a cool, steely grey. "What were you reading?"

_He's not telling me something_. Hermione hesitated. Perhaps they were just abandonment fears again._But what if it's something else?_

Hermione returned Draco's composed smile. "_Immortality: A Study_; it's a book about vampires…"

- - -

Draco listened half-heartedly as Hermione spoke animatedly about the origin and history of vampires. _She knows_, he thought. _The look in her eyes. She knows._

Of course she did. She always knew better than he did.

_But she doesn't know what._ Draco lifted his cup but did not drink. _She knows it's something but she hasn't any idea what. Like tomorrow…_Draco grimaced, just thinking about it. He was not looking forward to the next day at all.

"Draco? Are you listening to me?" Hermione asked, slightly exasperated.

He shouldn't hide things from her, he knew. But right at this moment, when everything was so perfect – the sun in her hair, the sparkle in her eyes, the glow of her soft skin, the adoration in her gaze – Draco couldn't be convinced that this wasn't the right thing to do. _It's not right_, a small voice in the back of his head said.

_But look at her_, another voice argued. _Look at her. So beautiful, and so in love – with you. Imagine losing it all over again. Just try and imagine the pain you'd feel all over again._

"Of course I am." Draco heard himself say.

Hermione eyed him suspiciously. "All right," she finally said, giving him a small smile.

_Don't tell._

x x x

_In a place that won't let us feel  
In a life where nothing seems real  
I have found you  
I have found you_

x x x

"Harry, your next appointment is here."

"Send him in, Susan." Harry tapped his desk as he checked the clock. On time, as usual. He ran his hand through his hair anxiously. He had been anticipating this next meeting for the last few days and now that it was about to come to realization, he wasn't sure to expect. Not that he had been sure what to expect before, but as the final seconds before the meeting wound down, Harry found himself at loss for words.

He had, in the previous few days, come up with many things to say. He had devised many tactics, stratagems, considered a variety of questions to ask.

And at this moment, all that flew out of his head, which now felt strangely blank.

_Click_. The doorknob turned, revealing the person he had no desire to see.

The two stared at each other.

"You're here. On _time_."

"Sit down, Malfoy," Harry said, ignoring Malfoy's remark.

Wordlessly, Malfoy complied, sitting at one of the blue cushy chairs.

Harry set his gaze on the man sitting in front of him, a mixture of feelings swirling inside of him. Old habits were hard to kill, and as Harry found now, so were old feelings. The hate once so familiar to him was swelling up inside again. Malfoy sat in front of him, perfectly poised and still, waiting for Harry to speak. For some reason, Malfoy's composure elevated Harry's loathing… how could Malfoy sit so still when everything he had ever done had turned Ron and Harry's worlds completely upside down? Still, hate wasn't the only thing Harry was feeling. _Ambivalence,_ he recognized. Trying his best to choke it down, Harry focused all his energy on the anger that was much more familiar and comforting.

"So," Harry said curtly. "No Dark Arts."

"No."

"Been keeping in check?"

"Of course."

A stifling silence filled the room.

Finally, Harry could not help himself anymore. "Hermione," he blurted out.

Malfoy immediately straightened up and looked defensive. "Potter –"

"How is she?" Harry cut in.

Malfoy looked genuinely surprised. That was clearly not what he had expected Harry to say. "She's – " he cleared his throat. "She's very well. Both she and Aiden."

Harry nodded solemnly.

"All right," he finally said. "Let me just check your wand and you'll be on your way."

- - -

Harry held the door open. "All right, Malfoy. I'll see you next week, then."

Malfoy nodded briskly. He hadn't walked two steps out the door when a blur from the left knocked him over.

"YOU BASTARD! YOU BLOODY BASTARD!"

"RON!" Harry yelled, frantically trying to pull his best friend off Malfoy who was now pinned to the floor, struggling to fend off the surprise attack.

"STAY" – punch – "AWAY" – punch – "FROM" – punch – "MY" – punch – "WIFE!!!!"

"RON!" Harry bellowed, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING?!" He desperately grabbed at Ron, hoping to catch hold of one of Ron's flailing limbs before he dealt some serious damage to Malfoy. Everyone else in the office had stopped what they were doing to watch the scene.

"Stay out of this, Harry!"

"Stop!" Harry finally yanked Ron away. "Ron, what the _fuck_ are you doing? Have you bloody lost your sodding mind?"

"LET ME GO, HARRY!" Ron pulled against Harry's restraining arms, trying to once again attack Malfoy, who was slowly getting back up to his feet. Draco stood, wavering slightly. He reached his hand to his nose. When Malfoy pulled his hand away, Harry realised that Malfoy's nose was bleeding.

"She's not your wife anymore, Weasley." Malfoy's eyes gleamed dangerously.

"FUCK YOU, MALFOY!" Ron was literally redder than his hair.

"Ron!"

"Go ahead, Weasley." Malfoy smirked. "Go ahead and shout and yell and holler. It won't bring her back."

Ron glowered at the blonde now leering at him. "This is _your_ fault, Malfoy. Your bleeding, sodding fault…"

Malfoy laughed unpleasantly. "Hardly, Weasley. This was your doing, and you know it."

Ron opened his mouth, but no words came out.

"Get out of here." Harry looked at Malfoy intently. "Get out, Malfoy."

Malfoy moved his glance from Ron to Harry before nodding almost imperceptibly. Turning on his heel, Malfoy spun around and strode out of the office, everyone's eyes following his path.

Once Malfoy had exited, every head pivoted to stare confusedly at Harry. "Get back to work," he snapped a little more harshly than he had intended. Almost immediately, the office reanimated, returning to motion as if nothing had happened.

Harry turned his attention back to Ron, but his friend had vanished from where he had been standing before. "Ron?" Harry swiveled his head around. His redheaded friend was nowhere to be found.

"He went that way, Harry." Tonks, who was peering out of her little cubicle, pointed in the opposite direction of which Malfoy had made his exit. "To the meeting room, I reckon."

"Thanks, Tonks." Harry sped off in the direction Tonks had directed him. Down the hallway, Harry noticed that one of the doors to the meeting room was slightly ajar.

Harry paused briefly before entering. Taking in a deep breath, he pushed the door open and stepped into the room.

"Ron?" Harry peered around the room. It was a large room that had a wall-length mirror on one end, overlooking the fountain. There was a long, oak table in the centre of the room with meshy swiveling chairs on either side of it. Big bookcases lined the walls, but on the far end of the room, there was a nook where nothing could fit. Harry walked over there, and sure enough, there was Ron, curled up in the corner.

"What do you want?" Ron practically spat out.

"Ron…" Harry started.

"Don't_Ron_ me." Ron glared up at Harry with vicious blue eyes.

"I understand. You're hurting." Harry pulled out a chair and sat down. Ron turned his head away. "Look, Ron, you can't do stupid things like that! That's what's gotten you into this problem in the first place…"

"So you're taking his side, then?"

"Of course _not_. Why in Merlin's name would I do that?"

"Well, you seemed rather _chummy_ with Malfoy back there."

"Ron! I just didn't want to see you get into any serious legal trouble! Malfoy may be an ex-convict but he's still one of the richest wizards in Britain. If you had gone any further, I know Malfoy would have sought legal action. That's the last thing you need right now, Ron."

Ron propped up his hands on his knees and cradled his head in them. "Shit, Harry." Ron shook his head. "What the bloody fuck am I going to do? I'm lost without her."

"I know."

Silence.

"I miss her," Ron finally said, his head bent towards the ground.

"I do too." Harry sighed. "Look, Ron, we just need to sort all this out."

"How, Harry? How do you propose we do that? How _exactly_ do we go about doing that?" Ron groaned. "She won't talk to me. I've tried, Harry. She's hidden up somewhere at Malfoy's, and there's no way in hell Malfoy's about to let me in his bloody house. So tell me, Harry… how _exactly_ do we sort this out if she won't even talk to me?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "We'll figure something out. She can't stay in there forever."

Ron looked up blankly at Harry. "Why ever not? It's not like she'd never need to _do_ anything…"

"Exactly. Come on, Ron, this is Hermione we're talking about. She won't be able to stay holed up in Malfoy Manor too long."

Ron did not reply for a while, appearing to be contemplating something. "This is my fault," he finally said, sounding very bitter and remorseful. "Malfoy was right. This _is_ my sodding fault. I should have let her work like she wanted to. She's nothing like Mum, and I know that. I shouldn't have lied to her…"

"We_all_ lied to her, Ron."

"Harry, what if…?"

"Ron, we did what we thought was best. Hermione's mad now, but I think in time she'll understand…"

"I don't think so, Harry." Ron's voice was dry and hollow. "I really don't think so. If she knows everything and can still leave me for Malfoy, I don't think she'd ever forgive me. Ever."

x x x

_In a world that's moving too fast  
In a world where nothing can last  
I will hold you  
I will hold you_

x x x

Draco grimaced as he stalked through the giant lobby of Malfoy Manor. Gingerly, he touched his nose. It wasn't broken, but he was a bloodied mess. Draco looked down with disgust at his hand. It was covered with blood. After his unexpected physical confrontation with Weasley, Draco had wanted nothing more than to get away. He needed to get cleaned up quickly before…

"Draco?"

_Shit._ Draco stopped in his tracks. _Hermione_.

"Yes?" he asked, not turning around.

"You're back early today," Hermione replied.

"Well, I don't do business every day."

"Right." She paused. "Draco, is something the matter?"

"No."

"Then why are you still talking with your back to me?"

"It's nothing."

Draco should have known better. His quick and brusque answers were sure to trigger her alarms. Sure enough, she walked closer to him. He could hear her footsteps, gradually drawing nearer. "Draco, what's wrong?" she asked, the concern evident in her voice.

"I said it's nothing."

Hermione, however, ignored his protests. She walked around so she could look at him. Though Draco tried to obscure his face, it was in vain. She gasped loudly when she saw the blood that was streaked across his face.

"Draco! What happened?" she cried, rushing towards him. Hermione gently cradled his head in her hands. "What happened to you? Did you get mugged? Are you hurt? Are you all right? What happened, Draco?"

"I'm all right," he replied, trying to bat away her meddling hands.

"You are _not_ all right. You have blood all over your face! Stand still… stop squirming, Draco! _Scourgify_." Hermione examined the results of her cleaning spell. "I got most of it," she finally said. "But let me go get a wet cloth to clean up the rest." She looked at him sternly. "Go to your room and sit on your bed and wait for me. Don't do anything until I get there, understand?" Without waiting for a response, Hermione zoomed off, calling for Hetty as she sped away.

Draco watched her rush off with amusement. It was rather endearing to see her all in a tizzy. Obliging her wishes, he slowly walked upstairs to his bedroom and seated himself on the bed, as Hermione had instructed him to do. He had not waited five minutes when Hermione burst through the door, holding a washcloth and a basin of water.

"Good," she said approvingly. Hermione set down the basin on the night stand next to Draco's expansive bed. She plopped down next to him. Carefully wringing out the excess water from the washcloth, Hermione turned her attention to Draco. "You have a bruise," she noted, her fingers brushing against the black spot right under his left eye.

"Ow!" Draco yelped. "That hurt!"

"Oh, stop being such a sissy." Hermione pulled out her wand, tapped the same spot again (_Ow!_ Draco protested again), and mumbled a quick spell under her breath. She squinted her eyes, narrowing in on the spot before smiling. "It's mostly gone, but it'll be a few days before you're back to your normal pasty self."

"Thanks, Granger."

"Anytime, darling," Hermione sing-songed before returning to cleaning his face. Her expression slowly turned serious as she washed his face.

"So," she finally said, "are you going to tell me what happened or not?"

Draco hesitated. "I…" He trailed off. What could he say?

Hermione waited. "You…" she prompted.

Draco cleared his throat and tried again. "Today was my check-in day. I had to check in with my parole officer. And that's Harry." Hermione nodded, indicating she was listening and understanding. "Well, shortly after my check-in, there was a bit of a... shall we say… problem?"

Hermione looked confused. "So the Aurors attacked you?"

"Not Aurors," Draco said slowly. "More like… just one."

Hermione blinked, slowly putting the pieces together. She jumped up, startling Draco. "Ron! Ron did this to you?" Without waiting for confirmation, Hermione started pacing around the room angrily. "That_idiot_. I can't believe it! I always knew he was short-tempered, but doing something as juvenile and stupid as this? Ugh! That's just absolutely disgusting!"

"Hermione…" Draco entreated, trying to calm her down.

"Completely moronic, barbaric, and idiotic thing to do. That sodding _idiot_. I can't be-"

"Stop." Draco had risen up and was now standing. He pulled Hermione towards him, pressing her body flush against his. "It's all right. I'm fine, see? You fixed me."

"I'm so sorry, Draco," Hermione said. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Don't be." Draco smirked. "You're worth it."

Hermione's cheeks tinged pink with pleasure. Her lips turned up slightly, shading hints at a smile.

"So, since we're here and there's a bed readily available…" Draco leaned in to whisper into her ear. "What do you think?"

Hermione didn't reply, instead throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him full on the mouth.

Draco took it as a yes.

x x x

_Our song  
Played on a solo saxophone  
A crazy sound  
A lonely sound  
A cry that tells us love goes on and on_

x x x

Ginny Weasley was, if nothing else, very perceptive. Furthermore, she, having grown up with six brothers, understood the male psyche very well. She, having observed them for nearly two decades now, understood the nuances of each of her brothers. As different as each of her six brothers was, she knew that when it boiled down, there was one truth about all men: they were stupid, and inevitably, given half a chance, they would do something stupid.

Still, the knowledge of this did not stop her from being completely surprised by her youngest brother's actions.

"How_stupid_ could you be, Ronald?"

Ron scowled at her. "I heard this from Harry already. Do I really have to hear it from you again?"

"That has to be the single STUPIDEST thing you've ever done! And for you, that is _incredibly_ stupid…"

"Why does everyone insist on calling me stupid?" Ron grumbled under his breath.

"Because you are!" Ginny practically exploded. "Do you realise what you've done? You've basically announced to the entire world that Hermione is with Malfoy now. How could you be so stupid and irresponsible? Even for _you_…"

"You're starting to sound like Mum."

Those words had the affect on Ginny that Ron had hoped for. Her mouth opened but no words came out. Her eyes narrowed as she glared at her brother. "Fine," she snapped. "Wallow in your stupidity and misery. See if I care. See if that helps you get Hermione back."

"Gin," Harry said, his eyes darting around the restaurant. "People are_staring_."

Ginny folded her arms and leaned against her chair, now moving her glare to Harry. Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"All right, Ginny," Ron finally said, breaking the silence. "I was stupid. I really was." He looked from Ginny to Harry and back to Ginny again. "But we can't just sit here and keep calling me stupid… we got to figure something out. What can we do?"

Ginny sighed. "You know, I was always afraid this day would come. I think we all knew deep down… something like this was bound to happen. The moment Malfoy left Azkaban…" Ginny fell into deep thought. Hermione had been readily regaining her memory since Malfoy had been released. And, as Ginny reflected now, Hermione's behaviour had changed accordingly. That time Hermione had forgotten their plans for wedding planning. All the little details about her new life Hermione had hidden from Ginny - breaking habits, new friends she failed to tell Ginny about... That all made sense now. But this? How could Hermione walk out on her family and friends like this if she knew? Maybe… Ginny's eyes narrowed. _What if…?_

"Gin? Are you there?"

She snapped back to reality. "What?"

"What are you thinking?" Harry asked.

"Well," she said slowly, trying to reassemble her thoughts, "I was wondering how much Hermione remembered."

"Everything," Ron said miserably. "Everything."

"I don't think so," Ginny said. "I think she remembers _most_ everything… but not everything." Straightening in her seat, Ginny pulled the folded napkin off her plate and placed it neatly across her lap. She took the menu and quickly glanced over it. "I think I'll be having the salmon," she said briskly. "What about you?"

Harry and Ron stared at her. "Ginny?" Harry asked, completely bewildered.

Ginny gave Harry a quick glance, and understanding his confusion, she simply said, "I will talk to Hermione soon."

"And how do you propose you do that?"

Ginny smiled knowingly at her brother and fiancé. "I guess you two still don't understand Hermione well enough. She will leave Malfoy Manor soon. It's been too long. She _will_ leave Malfoy's, if not tomorrow, then the day after. And when she does, I will talk to her. I think there are some details that need to be straightened out." Ginny handed Harry the menu. "So what will you be having?"

x x x

_Played on a solo saxophone  
It's telling me to hold you tight  
And dance  
Like it's the last night of the world_

x x x

Draco looked down on the sleeping form next to him, illuminated only by the waning moonbeams that sifted through the window. Hermione's brown curls brushed gently against her bare shoulder as she moved in her sleep.

He loved her. Draco knew this now, with full certainty. The last three years had been more than long enough for him to reflect, more than long enough to regret and repent. He would right every wrong he had done before, every terrible thing he'd said, every misstep, every mistake… he'd take it all back and make it right. All his failings in the past would be wiped away. Draco was starting anew like he never dreamed he could – a free man with the love of his life by his side.

Still, he couldn't sleep. Although the promise of a new life was in his hands, in the crevices of his mind, a darkness loomed… a darkness he could not ignore.

Draco stared out the window. The moon had set.

* * *

** AN: **Ta-daaaaa! There you have it. In case you were interested, the scene I had planned was Ron beating up on Draco. Buahua. Oh, Ron, you silly boy.

So? What do we think?


	22. When They Dreamed

**AN: **No, your eyes do NOT deceive you... this IS an update! After months and months away, I've come back!! For whatever reason, I just couldn't get anything satisfying out. It was a struggle and a rather difficult time for me.

But here - an update! I know, it's only a memory, but I forgot to write this. This should have come a chapter earlier, but it doesn't really matter.

Thank you to everyone who's stuck with this story and to the wonderful people who have reviewed so far. You're definitely part of the reason I haven't given up on the story yet.

* * *

**Stand and Watch It Burn**

**XXII. When They Dreamed**

**Three years ago…**

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. She felt uncomfortable. This _was_ uncomfortable. Her eyes flitted quickly across the room where a certain someone was most determinedly was _not_ looking at her. It had been weeks since she and Draco had kissed, weeks since she and Ron had had that all too uncomfortable talk. Not that there was much talking done. Mostly shouting, really. She sighed. It seemed that was all she and Ron had ever really done – constantly bicker and shout at each other. Of course, she hadn't expected anything less; how else would you expect someone to react when you tell them you're leaving him for his worst enemy?

The others had been a little more receptive. Not much, but at least they weren't ignoring her like Ron was. Harry, in particular, had grown more trusting of Draco over the past few months, to the point where Harry even asked Draco for help at times. He had, of course, stuck up for his best mate and refused to talk to Hermione for a week… but in the end, he relented, promising Hermione she was his best friend too. Ginny had been very open about her disappointment and questioned Hermione's sanity but was unwavering in her support – for the most part.

Still, that didn't prevent these Order meetings from being… well… _uncomfortable._

Weeks had elapsed, and Ron still wasn't speaking to her. She remembered the pure fury in his eyes when she and Draco had to hide out in Malfoy Manor. Hermione sighed, wondering if things between her and Ron could ever go back to what they used to be.

"Any questions?"

Hermione snapped her gaze back to Harry, who had been explaining the next mission. After a brief pause, Harry nodded. "All right then. Remus should be back in a few days, so we'll have more information then. But for now, we'll work with what we have. All right, Tonks?"

Tonks nodded, her turquoise bob shaking.

"Okay, so Fred and George will be going with her, and Ron, Hermione, and Draco will stay her-"

"I want to go," Ron interrupted.

Heads swiveled to Ron. There was a long, heavy, awkward silence. Hermione felt her stomach drop. Though no one was looking at her, she knew they were all thinking the same thing: Ron didn't want to stay because of her.

"Okay," Harry said finally. "Tonks, Fred, George, and Ron will go. The rest of us will stay here. Good luck… and see you tonight."

x x x

The rest of the day was relatively quiet. Harry sat, waiting impatiently for the return of the team that had left earlier that day. He stayed silent, his head bent over parchment. Harry was often that way these days: quiet and pensive. He rarely laughed or smiled anymore. Draco and Mr. Weasley sat with him to keep him company and talked quietly. Hermione and Ginny helped Mrs. Weasley with chores around the house. They were in the middle of preparing dinner when they heard a tapping at the window.

Harry was the first to react. He jumped out of his seat and ran to the window where a barn owl was waiting. Swiftly, he opened the window and took the small piece of parchment tied to the owl's leg. The owl hooted and swooped off. Harry unrolled the parchment and quickly scanned its contents.

"Harry, what is it?" Hermione asked.

Harry's face was impassive. "Death Eaters," he said. "Attack."

"Who?" asked Ginny.

"Robert Pinkerton."

Arthur Weasley pursed his lips, thinking. "The Pinkertons? Robert and Olivia? I've seen them at Ministry functions. Young couple, with a little son. Robert and Olivia work in Muggle Relations. We should have seen this coming. Robert's Muggleborn and Olivia is from the Macmillion family – purebloods. I know Robert. We have talked a few times. Good man – idealist."

Hermione's blood ran cold. "He's not… Is he…?"

Harry's mouth formed a straight line. "Think so." Mr. Weasley sighed and shook his head. Ginny's head bowed.

"And the others? His wife and son?" Draco asked urgently.

"We're not sure," Harry replied.

There was a heavy silence. "You best go," Mr. Weasley said. "Their lives are probably in danger. At the very least, the Death Eaters may have left some evidence at the scene. I expect Tonks and the boys will be back soon, so if anything goes wrong, come back for help."

Harry nodded. "Let's go," he said to Hermione and Draco.

x x x

They arrived outside the house, a grim scene lying before them. To the untrained eye, the Pinkertons' home was like any other on the street, but Hermione identified the signs of struggle that she had seen all too often: a slightly charred door, barely ajar; trampled plants; and the foreboding darkened windows.

The three of them entered quietly, splitting up to cover more ground. Hermione could feel her heart racing as she slipped silently through the rooms. There had been no Mark above the house… which meant there was a high probability the Death Eaters were still nearby…

"Hey, get back! Harry, Hermione!"

The sound of Draco's voice shouting jolted her, and she felt her feet lead her to the room where it was coming from. Harry had already arrived and was helping Draco fight off the onslaught.

"_Expelliarmus!"_

"_Reducto!"_

A flurry of spells was being thrown back and forth. Hermione fought furiously, but it was becoming very clear to her that the three of them were no match for the large number of Death Eaters that were here. She looked around to see where Harry and Draco were. In the corner of her eye, she saw a young woman hunched over, covering a little boy. From the darkness behind her, Hermione could see a hooded figure moving up slowly, wand raised. Before Hermione had the chance to even scream for help, Draco appeared from nowhere, pushing the young woman and the boy down – right as the Death Eater cast the near fatal spell.

_Draco_.

Hermione ran across the room. Draco was slowly getting up when he spotted her approaching.

"Hermione, go get help!"

"No!" Hermione shook her head. She kneeled down beside him. "I can't leave y-"

"I'm _fine_." Draco shot off another spell at a Dark Eater that was approaching. "We need help. Harry and I can hold them off for a while, but not for long. There's too many of them. Go back!"

"But Draco…"

He pulled her in and kissed her quickly. "I love you," he said, his eyes staring right into hers. "Now _go_!"

Reluctantly, Hermione raised her wand and Disapparated.

x x x

"She's fine. She has a few cuts and burns, but none of them are serious. We healed most of them, and the rest will only take a couple days." The mediwizard sighed. "But that's only physically. As for the rest of it… that will take longer."

Their attempt to push back the Death Eaters had been successful. When Hermione arrived back at Order Headquarters, Tonks and the other Weasleys had returned, just as Arthur said. They had immediately gone to the Pinkertons'. But that couldn't undo what the Death Eaters had already done.

Harry had insisted on following the young woman and her son to St. Mungo's, and Hermione and Ron followed, not wanting him to go alone. They knew how hard and how personally Harry took each death.

Hermione watched as Harry paced back and forth. He stopped and then sighed. "Thank you," he finally said. The mediwizard nodded and left.

After the mediwizard was gone, Harry slumped into the seat next to Hermione. He dropped his head into his hands. "Merlin," he mumbled.

Ron, who had been standing across the room, trying to avoid being near Hermione, finally walked across to where Harry was sitting. His and Hermione's eyes met briefly. Ron nodded. Whatever was going on between the two of them had to be put on hold; right now, Harry needed them.

"You did your best, mate," Ron said.

"There was nothing you could do," Hermione added.

"I know," Harry said, his voice sounding empty and flat. "But why does it _feel_ like it's my fault?"

"It's _not_ your fault," Hermione responded fiercely. "It's the Death Eaters', Lord Voldemort's… but not yours."

"We saved his wife and son," Ron said quietly. "At least you did that."

Harry groaned. "How many families have to be torn apart before it's finally over? How many lives have to be destroyed?"

Ron and Hermione remained silent. Neither of them knew the answer to that.

x x x

Hermione returned to Lupin's cabin with a heavy heart. It wasn't just the battle, the death – no, there had been plenty of those. She was nearly numb to it. It was seeing Harry so down and hopeless that got to her. Everyone looked to Harry to lead the fight, to be the beacon in a time of darkness. Clearly, the demands of that role were wearing at him. And seeing her best friend like that – trying so hard to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders – wore at her.

Lupin's cabin was warmly lit by a fire. Draco was still up. He had been waiting for her.

The door shut behind her, and Draco sat up straight at the sound of it closing. He turned around, his eyes blinking slowly. She smiled a little to herself; he had been sleeping.

"You're back," he said when his half-awake mind managed to register its surroundings. "How is she?"

"She's fine. Alive," Hermione said. She sat down next to him on the couch. "Alive and left with a mess of a life to sort through."

Draco let out a slow, long breath. "How's Harry taking it?"

"Not well."

"I figured as much."

Hermione twisted her hands together. "He's taking everything so hard now. Every day, it gets worse." Draco moved in closer to Hermione and wrapped his arms around her. She slumped into him, her head resting on his shoulder.

They sat there for a while, entwined in each other, staring at the fire. Hermione sighed, the day's events still on her mind. "How much longer do you think this will go on?" she asked.

"I don't know," Draco replied softly.

"I just… I just want it to be over."

"Yeah."

Hermione straightened up a bit. "What happens when it is over?"

Draco gave her a wary look. "Counting our duckies before they hatch?"

"It's chickens," she said, automatically correcting him. "And maybe… but it gives me something to look forward to. Something to think about when things are just… so bad."

"Ah," Draco said, tightening his hold around her shoulders. "Well, let's see… after this war is over, Harry will be even more outrageously famous. The Death Eaters will all be held accountable for their crimes and thrown into Azkaban. We'll all go back to Hogwarts… McGonagall will probably be Headmistress – Merlin help us. And we'll go back to courses, NEWTS, and that normal mundane boring life that victory promises."

"And us?" Hermione asked, sitting up now. "Draco, what happens to us?"

"Us?" he repeated. "What do you mean?"

"Do we… go back to what we used to be?"

Draco looked at Hermione, slightly confused. "What makes you think we'd go back to what we used to be? Do you want to?" A hint of fear crept in his voice.

"No! Not at all!" Hermione exclaimed. "It's just… this is strange, isn't it? These times? This war – it's made us do things that we never thought we'd do, feel things we never thought we'd feel. You turned yourself in, turned on the Death Eaters and helped the Order. And I… I fell in love with you. But if you had a chance to turn back time and have things the way they were before, would you?"

A pause. "I don't think I could," Draco said finally, "Not now. Not having what I have now."

"What's that?"

Draco kissed her forehead. "You." Hermione felt her cheeks flush with pleasure. "I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"All right," Hermione said. "But let's get a few things straight first."

Draco looked at her, amused. "Okay," he agreed.

"I refuse to be cooped up in Malfoy Manor, buying curtains or something." Hermione shook her head. "I can't. I can't be like your mom, just attending parties and hosting events. I need to go out, do things – have a job."

Draco nodded. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

"And I want kids."

"Well, of course," Draco drawled, rolling his eyes. "Someone has to carry on the Malfoy name."

"Kid_s_, Malfoy. Plural."

"Oh."

"Aliena for a girl."

"You would."

"I've liked that name ever since I read that play when I was ten!"

Draco chuckled. "All right, all right. And for a boy?"

"Plato."

Draco choked on his laughter. "Plato?" he managed to sputter out. "Like the _philosopher_? You can't possibly be serious, Hermione."

"What's wrong with Plato?"

"Hermione," Draco said after managing to calm down, "that is a _terrible_ name for a child. Can you even begin to comprehend how much the other kids would make fun of him? You _should_. Your name is Hermione for goodness' sake…"

"I _like_ Plato…" Hermione pouted a little.

Draco sighed. "Yes, dear, I'm sure you do, but I'm going to have to say no."

"Well, then what's _your_ brilliant suggestion?"

"Traditionally, members of my family have been given names of constellations and stars…"

"I am _not_ naming my son Orion…"

"Yeah, that's already been taken. Besides, if you would have let me finish," Draco said pointedly, "I was about to say I wanted to go a different route."

"Oh," Hermione said. "Like what?"

"Erm… I'm not entirely sure…"

"Oh, great."

"Hey, it's not like I spend my spare time thinking about names for my unborn sons! I'm only seventeen for Merlin's sake."

"Fine, well, think now!" Hermione snapped.

The two sat in a thoughtful silence. Hermione racked her brain, trying to think of a name that would be unique that wouldn't be playground banter, but nothing came to mind. Draco, too, hadn't spoken, and Hermione was starting to suspect he was just sitting there, _not_ thinking of names, when he suddenly broke the quiet.

"Aneirin."

"What?"

"Aneirin," Draco repeated. He smiled. "You remember my Christmas gift for you?"

Of course she did. Hermione thought of that beautiful hardbound book Draco had given her last Christmas. She stared at Draco with wonder. "Oh, Draco," she breathed, "it's perfect. Why didn't I think of it?"

"Obviously, I am cleverer than you."

She punched him. "You are _not_."

Draco smirked. "If you say so."

"You are _so_ insufferable sometimes."

He shot her a grin, and she couldn't resist. Hermione's face broke out into a smile. Draco's face softened and he leaned back against the sofa, pulling Hermione in towards him. They sat, watching the fire slowly burn out while they dreamed of the future.

* * *

**AN:** Yeah? I know, I know... move the story along. But this is important! It shows how Draco's relationship with the rest of the Order developed, as well as Draco and Hermione's. Anyway, the next chapter should come relatively soon... sooner than 6 months anyway.

Hope you liked it. Reviews are greatly appreciated!


	23. Collapse

**AN:** HERE IT IS. I promised, didn't I? :D And for once I delivered!! This was, by far, the hardest chapter I've written thus far, and the reason for the long hiatus. This chapter literally took me five whole months to pound this out, but it has been pounded. I figured this would be difficult, but I never knew... Anyway, long story short, the fluffiness is over. The last chapter is probably the last of it and why I wanted to get it out so desperately, even though I knew it wouldn't really advance the story.

Thanks to the four people who reviewed. You guys rock my wizorld.

Anyway, without further ado...

* * *

**Stand and Watch It Burn**

**XXIII. Collapse**

A cool breeze fluttered. Hermione pulled the cloak a little more tightly around her. Though it was still August, there was a coolness already about the early hours of the day. The warmth of the sun's rays had yet to fill in the empty crevices where night was still hiding. There was a briskness in the air, tinted with the scent of sweet jasmine and grass still damp from the morning dew.

Hermione sat, watching as the sun slowly crept upwards through the brilliantly blue sky. Another day. Had it really been only days since she last left Ron and entered Malfoy Manor? It almost felt like a lifetime away. And truth be told, she was starting to get restless.

She looked down to the letter in her hand. It was from McGonagall and had come in yesterday.

_Dear Ms. Granger,_

_I have written to you before regarding a teaching position at Hogwarts, and while you have previously turned down the position, after speaking with Professor Lupin, I had hope perhaps you would reconsider your decision. I still believe you are the best choice for the opening we have in the Transfiguration position. You would be a delightful addition to our teaching staff. While I do have an able-boded substitute (that being myself), I would much prefer having a Transfiguration professor that can dedicate himself or herself wholly to teaching that subject. _

_I do hope you will give my offer some more thought. My offer is an open-ended one, so if at any point you change your mind and would like to come, I would be more than happy to count you as one of my professors._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

Hermione sighed as she pondered its contents. This was the third letter she had received from Professor McGonagall since the beginning of the summer. She was still unsure of what to say. Part of her wanted desperately to say yes, but another part of her was more cautious, unwilling to commit.

"There you are." Footsteps drew nearer, and Hermione turned around, smiling.

"Draco." She reached out her hand to take his, which he gave.

"Good morning," he said, kissing her gently on the temple.

"Morning. Come have some breakfast." Hermione waved her hand at the table of food by her chair.

"You're up early today." Draco surveyed the table that Hermione had set. "Breakfast in the garden? That's a change."

Hermione laughed. "Sure. Where are you off to this fine, fine morning?"

Draco sat down in the chair next to her. "Oh, just following up on some investments the Malfoy Estate has made." He was busier now, Hermione noticed. He was out more often, and later than he had been before. "And you? Hey, what's that you have there?" He gestured at the letter in Hermione's hand.

"This?" Hermione lifted the letter up and gave it a shake. "Letter from McGonagall."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "What for?"

"She wants me to teach at Hogwarts. Transfiguration."

He nodded. "And?"

Hermione blinked. "And what?"

"And what do you think?"

"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "I would love to teach…"

"You'd be fantastic at it."

Hermione felt a smile pulling at her lips. "You really think so?"

Draco grinned and squeezed her hand. "I _know_ so."

"Thanks," she murmured. "I would love to do it… but I don't know if I could leave Aiden behind. He's so young, and I want to be there for him and take care of him. But also…"

"You can do both," Draco said gently. "You always told me you couldn't just stay home – that you had to go out and work."

"I know," Hermione hemmed. "But…"

Draco patted her hand. "Do what you need to."

"I suppose. I _am_ starting to feel sort of restless."

"Well, you've always been that way. I never could imagine you as a housewife, cooped up in a home, doing menial things like laundry and dishes. You always needed to go out and use that crazy brain of yours." Draco shot her a smirk.

"I was actually thinking…" Hermione hesitated.

"Thinking…" Draco prompted.

"Ofgoingouttoday."

Draco blinked and then smiled. "I didn't quite catch that."

"I want to go out. Of the Manor." Hermione felt her face flush. She wasn't sure why she felt so afraid of asking to leave. The truth was, she'd been afraid to bring this up a few days now, trying to find the perfect moment and opportunity… which never came. Hermione had tried to… but every time, something told her to hold back. Perhaps it was because Draco had never once suggested she do so. Or perhaps it was because she was afraid saying she wanted to leave the Manor might seem to imply to Draco she wanted to leave _him_.

Immediately, Draco's face darkened, and Hermione knew her suspicions were not completely unfounded. "Why?" he asked, his voice sounding a little strangled.

"Draco, it's not that I don't love it here… It's just… I've been here for days and days – almost two weeks now, and I'm starting to get a little stir crazy. You come home so awfully late, and I spend all day avoiding your mother." Hermione paused, trying to gauge Draco's reaction. He was still staring at the ground, not speaking. She reached across and placed a hand gently on his leg. "You can understand that, can't you? You just said so yourself – you can't imagine me cooped up."

Draco finally looked up and gave her a cool smile. "Of course," he replied smoothly. "You couldn't stay in here forever," he added, speaking more to himself than to her.

"I just thought I'd go to Diagon Alley or the library…"

Draco rolled his eyes in amusement. "More books, Granger? Aren't there enough in here for you?"

Hermione felt the tension leave her body. He was joking around. She smiled brightly in return. "Oh, you know the answer to that one."

"Of course. Never enough books." Draco stood up and kissed Hermione on the forehead. "Well, I really must be going."

"You didn't eat anything."

"There will be coffee and pastries at the meeting." Draco straightened his robe. "Enjoy your time out. You'll be home before dinner?"

"Most probably."

"All right. Well, you know where the Apparation point is, and the fireplace that's connected to the Floo network. If you want to leave Aiden behind, Hetty can take care of him. She practically raised me, so I'm sure she'd love to have another little one to look after." Draco started to walk away and then abruptly stopped. Turning, he gave Hermione a look she'd remember in years to come. "I love you," Draco said in a voice Hermione had never heard before.

"I love you, too."

x x x

Walking down Diagon Alley, Hermione felt a strange lightness. Strolling past store windows along with other witches and wizards gave her a new sense of freedom. She happily walked down the street to her favourite store – Flourish and Botts. She needed to catch up on their new shipments… after all, it had been almost two whole weeks since she was last there.

Two weeks. Just two weeks ago, Hermione was still with Ron, not knowing the whole truth. It was a bit strange to think about it. Hermione had stayed in Malfoy Manor for so long, she had nearly forgotten the world outside it. Truth was, Hermione had purposefully avoided thinking about it. It was much too difficult.

"Hermione."

Hermione froze at the sound of her name. The familiar voice sent strange chills of dread down her spine. It was a voice she knew well. She did not need to see the face of its owner to know who was speaking to her.

"Ginny," she said, finally turning around. With a jolt, their eyes met. Stunned by the ferocity in Ginny's eyes, Hermione almost took a step back. But Hermione held her head up high and her gaze steady. She couldn't show any fear. She couldn't show any signs of weakness – it would merely give Ginny vindication and justification. _They were wrong_, she reminded herself as she fixed her gaze steadily back at Ginny's. _They were wrong_.

Ginny's mouth was set in a thin, determined line. After a moment's silence, she finally moved.

"I see you've finally left your cage," she said coolly.

Hermione crossed her arms in response. She didn't need to deal with this.

Ginny let out a frustrated sigh. "Hermione, what are you doing?"

"Well, I was trying to go to the bookstore…"

"No." Ginny shook her head. "Don't play stupid, Hermione. It doesn't suit you. You know what I am talking about. What do you think you're playing at, running to Malfoy?"

"What do you _think_ I'm playing at, Ginny?" Hermione responded through gritted teeth. "You all lied to me. About everything."

"Hermione, no, no." Ginny let up her hands in frustration. "It's not like that…"

"Then what is it like?" Hermione was growing impatient. "Explain it to me, because I seem to be missing something."

"You are." Ginny never was one to beat around the bush, but the bluntness of her statement took Hermione aback. "You don't remember…"

"But I _do_ –"

"No," Ginny said firmly. "You don't. You couldn't, or you wouldn't still be with him right now." She took a step closer to Hermione. "If you really remembered, you'd know why… why we did what we did."

"There is _no_ justification for what you did. You lied to me. You deceived me."

"We're not the only ones."

"As if that somehow makes it all right?" Hermione snorted. "What are we, five years old?"

Ginny ignored her. "Has Malfoy ever explained to you why he was arrested?"

"I know what happened," Hermione snapped. "I read it in the papers. He was arrested and framed for something or the other. And I guess Ron, blinded by jealousy, had something to do with it. And Harry. And _you_. My best friends."

"Is that was Malfoy told you?"

"He doesn't have to. I know, all right?"

Ginny shook her head. "No, Hermione," she said gently. "You don't."

Hermione stared at her. "What –"

"Do you really think we could do something like that? Ron _was_ jealous and heartbroken. But we'd never, _ever_ deliberately hurt you…" Ginny opened her hands imploringly. "You know that, Hermione. Something isn't right, and you know it. Malfoy's afraid to let you out. How long did you stay in Malfoy Manor before you finally made this first trip out? And he's hiding something from you… you know it, Hermione. You're smart. You _know_ something isn't right."

Visions of Draco's uneasiness flooded her mind. His reluctance. His hesitations. Now, Hermione was the one hesitating as Ginny's words began to sank in.

"Harry and Ron should have explained themselves better," Ginny said quietly. "Then we wouldn't be in this mess we are now. But Ron's too hotheaded, and Harry's never been too good with words. They should have made sure you all were on the same page before jumping to conclusions."

"Ron modified my memory," Hermione said defensively. "He admitted to it."

Ginny sighed. "He did. And maybe that was a mistake. But do you know _why _he did it_?"_

Hermione snorted. "Does it matter?"

"Of course it does," Ginny replied. "Hermione, do you remember what happened the night Malfoy was arrested?"

Hermione opened her mouth but then paused. She couldn't. Hermione sifted desperately through her newfound memories, trying to remember, trying to just catch a glimpse of that night… but it was empty. She couldn't remember that night or anything after.

"I didn't think so."

Hermione was still in a trancelike state when she realized Ginny was walking away. She ran after her. "Ginny, wait!"

Ginny stopped and turned around. "Yes?" she asked, calmly.

"Well…?"

"Well what?"

"Well aren't you going to tell me?"

Ginny seemed to consider it for a moment. "No," she finally said. "No, I'm not."

Hermione's jaw almost dropped to the ground. "You mean you stood here, lecturing me and now you won't tell me exactly why you're lecturing me? I can't believe this…"

"You'll remember in time, Hermione. I can't be the one to tell you. You wouldn't believe me, anyway." Ginny smiled wryly. "But you know where to find me when you do."

"So you can gloat and tell me you told me so?"

"No," Ginny replied honestly. "So I can catch you."

Hermione watched, confused, as Ginny disappeared down the street.

x x x

"What does she mean, 'so I can catch you'? What sort of absurd, condescending remark is that?"

Hermione was now at Olivia's, pacing in the living room. Olivia was sitting on the couch, watching apprehensively as Hermione darted back and forth, rambling on and on about what had happened earlier that day.

"I –"

"And _honestly_," Hermione cried out, barreling on, "who does she think she is? I wonder how she even knew where I was. I bet she had some sort of stalking charm on me. The _nerve_…"

"Well –"

"What right does she have to talk to me like that? After everything? I don't believe her. I don't."

"Don't… or can't?"

Hermione stopped dead. Her head swiveled around to where Olivia was sitting. "What?"

"Don't or can't?" Olivia repeated. "Do you really not believe her… or do you just not want to?"

"I… I…" Hermione was at a loss for words. "I… Of course I don't!"

"Because it seems to me maybe you just can't… because if you believed her, things wouldn't be as simple as you'd like them to be."

"What do you mean by that?"

Olivia shrugged. "I don't know. It just all seems so strange to me, you know? If she had wanted you to think or believe something, wouldn't she have told you straight out what it was?"

Hermione fell down next to Olivia on the couch. "Yeah," she replied.

"These are your friends. I mean, yes, they lied to you. For years. But what if Ginny's right? What if they had a really good reason for doing so?"

"I'm so confused." Hermione let her head fall back. "Merlin."

Olivia twisted her lips. "You don't remember anything?"

"Nothing."

"Strange."

Hermione sighed. "I guess I never really thought about it. I just assumed… I just assumed I knew the truth and let it be that. I never even asked Draco what happened. He never wanted to talk about the past, really. He'd just say that was behind him and that he didn't want to think about it. I thought maybe it hurt too much for him… but…"

"But?"

"But… he seemed so uneasy. Like maybe…"

"Like maybe he was hiding something?"

Hermione didn't want to admit it, but her silence was affirmation enough for Olivia. "Talk to him," Olivia urged. "That's the only thing you can do."

"But he won't want to," Hermione said, feeling rather helpless. "If it's as terrible as Ginny makes it out to be, why would Draco want to talk about it at all?" Hermione gripped her hands together tightly in her lap. "No," she said firmly. "No, I won't."

"No?" Olivia repeated disbelievingly. "What do you mean no?"

"I can't, Olivia. I'm… I'm finally happy, and I remember… almost everything. Maybe there's a reason why I don't remember what happened that night. Olivia, I just can't… I love him."

"You _have _to, Hermione." Olivia crossed her arms. "I don't think you noticed, but you really don't have much of a choice. You have to find out what happened that night. You owe it to Harry and Ginny and Aiden and… I can't believe I'm saying this… you owe it to Ron."

"_Ron?"_

"He's your son's father."

Hermione snorted. "Olivia, you remember what he did."

"I know, but you still owe it to him. And most of all, you owe it to yourself. You have to find out, Hermione… or otherwise, you're still living a lie. You'd be no better off than before you found out Draco was part of the Order."

"It's not the same –"

"It is," Olivia cut in. "It's the same. Don't try to convince yourself differently."

Hermione didn't reply, gazing out the window instead.

x x x

The next day, Hermione decided to stay in and just spend time with Aiden. The morning was spent in the library where Hermione read to Aiden some wizarding fairy tales. The afternoon was pleasantly warm and sunny and Hermione thought it would be a perfect time to spend in the gardens with Aiden. The day passed by peacefully and uneventfully. Hermione mentally applauded her decision. Not that she was afraid of what was out there. Well, not really anyway. Yesterday's encounter with Ginny had served as a sufficient, albeit rather harsh reminder of reality. Having stayed in Malfoy Manor for so long, Hermione had nearly forgotten that there was a world outside the little insulated one she and Draco lived in.

"Da!"

Hermione smiled at her little son who was sitting in front of her, burbling happily and clapping his hands. She plucked one of the flowers growing nearby and tickled his nose with it. Aiden giggled, happy and carefree. Ron… Aiden was so much like him. Hermione sighed, her mind racing. How long could she do this? How long could she hide here, stay away from the truth? The rest of the wizarding world would soon find out that the wife of Harry Potter's best friend had run into the arms of Lucius Malfoy's son. What would they think of her then? What would they think of Harry? Ron? Draco?

To be completely truthful, Hermione hadn't thought much about the implications of what she had done when she fled to Draco. She had just… acted.

Happiness… this was it, wasn't it? Hermione was with the man she loved, and he loved her too. They were finally together, after all both of them had been through. She should be happy… and she _was. _But Hermione couldn't get what Ginny said out of her head. Nor could she shrug off Olivia's concerns. It was just one night. Could it matter so much?

"Afternoon tea, Miss?"

Hermione looked up to see Milly standing nearby. "That would be lovely. Has Draco returned?"

"Young Master is still out and tells Milly he does so until dinner."

Hermione nodded. "All right."

"Would young miss like tea out in the garden?"

"That would be perfect. Thank you, Milly," Hermione said. The house elf smiled and disappeared with a crack.

It _did_ matter, Hermione knew.

Her happiness was dependent upon it.

x x x

Draco strolled through the front entrance of Malfoy Manor, the sound of his boots echoing through the entire lobby as he walked.

He was busier than ever now. Initially, people had been afraid to deal with him. They didn't want to have to deal with a _Malfoy_. That name was nearly like poison in the wizarding community. When Draco had been first released, they had shunned him. No company or investor wanted to be known for dealing with the devil. But as Draco's release became less scandalous, people warmed to him, however reluctantly. Money, Draco knew, was a very persuasive influence and _that_ the Malfoy Estate had plenty of. So in all honesty, it probably had only been a matter of time.

For once, things seemed to be looking up.

_I wonder what Hermione is doing_. Just thinking of her filled him with warmth. Knowing she'd be there when he came home gave him a sense of security that he never knew he _could_ have. Mentally, Draco berated himself for being so anxious of letting Hermione leave the Manor the day before. What had he been so afraid of?

Draco checked a clock that he passed by in one of the hallways. _Seven_. Hetty and Milly would be nearly done with preparing dinner about now. _I hope Hetty made potatoes_, he thought hopefully.

Automatically, Draco went to the small dining room where he and Hermione always had dinner. His mother was still refusing to acknowledge Hermione's presence in the Manor. It bothered Draco that his mother was being so stubborn. _She'll come around_. He hoped.

When he reached the room, the table was already set, food was laid on the table, and Hermione was sitting there, an empty plate sitting in front of her. At the sound of his entrance, Hermione looked up.

"Hey love," Draco said. He passed by her, giving her a quick kiss on the top of her head.

"Hey."

Draco frowned. Hermione's response had been lackluster, very much unlike her. Her usually bright, inquisitive brown eyes were clouded over with trouble. Draco felt a little inkling of uncertainty start to build in the bottom of his stomach. This was a familiar feeling by now. Carefully, he fought it back. _It's probably nothing_.

"Is something wrong?"

"What?" Hermione's head jerked up. "Oh… no. No, I'm fine. Just a little tired," she said quickly.

Draco wasn't convinced, but he decided to let it go. "I see."

"And hungry. You took so long to get home," Hermione added with a soft smile.

"Ah," Draco replied, feeling a little more at ease now. "So you're angry with me."

"Not _angry_," Hermione said, her eyes tilted upward. "Not _happy_, per se. I'd go with something more in the "annoyed" category perhaps. But _angry_? Oh, never."

Draco chuckled. "I'll try to get home earlier. I'm sorry."

Hermione smiled. "It's all right. I understand. So, what did you do today?"

"Oh, not much really. Met up with some investors and some top executives of companies I'd invested in." Draco shoved the potatoes around on his plate. "Merlin, I don't know how long I can do this. Maybe you should help me out Hermione."

She laughed softly. Draco bent over and started to eat his potatoes. He loved potatoes.

"Draco?"

Hermione had spoken so softly, Draco had almost missed it. "Hm?"

"What happened that night?"

"What night?" Draco asked offhandedly.

"That night," Hermione repeated hesitantly. "The night you were arrested."

_Clank_. Draco had dropped his fork.

"Wh-what…" His mind was racing. Draco could hear his heart pounding in his chest. "Why are you asking?"

"Because I can't remember. And we never talk about it. I…"

"Why are you suddenly bringing this up?" Draco couldn't suppress the unease he felt, and it betrayed him in his voice. Hermione, ever observant, did not miss the change in tone.

"What's wrong with me bringing it up?" Her words were measured and careful.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Why not?" Hermione pressed. Draco grimaced. He knew Hermione. She wasn't about to let this go. "Draco, we should be able to talk about everything, right?"

_Wrong_.

"Draco, don't you trust me? I love you, and I just want to know…"

"I already said I don't want to talk about it?"

"Why not?" she demanded.

"Why do you want to know?" Draco shot back. He stood up abruptly, taking Hermione by surprise. She jumped at his sudden movement. "Why do you want to know so badly? Maybe there's a fucking reason why I don't talk about it! Why can't you just leave it alone? Why do you always have to know everything?"

Blood was rushing to his head. Draco suddenly felt very faint. He had to leave. He had to get out of here. He couldn't breathe, and he could swear the walls were closing in on him. Gathering what was left of his wits, he pushed past Hermione, out of the dining room. Draco managed to make it into his bedroom before his legs gave way and he crashed to the floor.

- - -

"Draco."

It was nearly midnight. Draco was getting ready for bed. He had just finished changing into his night clothes when Hermione had entered. He didn't look up or respond when she called his name. He sat on the bed with his back turned to her.

"Draco," Hermione repeated, a little more desperately this time. "Please… please look at me."

But Draco didn't move. He couldn't.

"I'm sorry. I mean… If you don't want to talk about it, we don't have to talk about it. I'm just…. I don't know. I don't know what came over me. I'm so sorry."

_Tell her. Tell her now._

"I know I shouldn't push you. It must hurt you to think about that time… I'm just being stupid and selfish. I'm sorry."

Hearing her apologize wasn't helping. It only made him feel worse.

"Draco?"

The words rose to his lips and died there. He couldn't. He just couldn't.

"I'm sorry," Draco whispered. "I shouldn't have shouted. I…"

"No, Draco."

_Yes_, he thought bitterly.

"Come to bed," he said quietly.

Her eyes slowly lit up, brightening with tears he knew she was holding back. A smile slowly crept across her face, and she slid into his bed, next to him, in the place she'd occupied so many nights before.

Slowly he eased down, resting his head on the pillow. Draco closed his eyes, trying to collect himself.

Hermione leaned into his ear. "I love you," she whispered.

Draco turned to face Hermione who had snuggled in, her body molded to his, was curved by his side. He leaned over and kissed her softly on the forehead.

"Sweet dreams."

x x x

_Pain. Screaming. Pain, so much pain! Then, as suddenly as it came, it goes._

_Now panic… fear, rising up. Desperation._

"_Draco, don't, it's a trick. Don't listen to her!"_

"_Just say the words."_

"_Draco, don't do this. It's a mistake, and you know it. She's just trying to trick you. Draco, please, look at me. Come back to me. Draco…"_

"_Everything you dreamed of your entire life, Draco! Respect! Glory! Honour! Your father would be so proud if he knew."_

"_Draco, remember what you said. You can't… you can have something else. Remember when you told me I'd be enough… Draco, please… don't. I… I love you."_

_Cold. The stillness before the storm. Her heart is falling, dropping…_

_A flash of light. Then nothingness._

- - -

Hermione woke with a start, her body drenched in cold sweat. Her mind was racing, reeling, as she tried to make sense of what just happened. _It was a dream… just a terrible dream…_ She looked at Draco's sleeping form to her right. He was so still, and his breathing was low and even. He looked so calm and peaceful. Hermione reached out in an attempt to touch his face, but she couldn't.

Hermione could feel her heart pounding in her ears. She tore out from the bed and ran out of the room. Stumbling, she tripped and fell to the ground. Her breathing was ragged as she tried desperately to straighten her thoughts.

_Please… let it just be a dream. Don't let it be real…_

She sat up and leaned against the wall. Closing her eyes, she tried to think. She tried to sift through her thoughts. It was there, lodged firmly in her memory, refusing to move no matter how she tried to remove it. And the aftermath… _Ron… _she grabbed her knees, hugging them towards her as she shook her head.

And she knew. It wasn't just a dream. She opened her eyes, and she could feel her heart fall.

She remembered. But she wished that she didn't.

* * *

**AN: **OMG OMG OMG.

Review?


	24. Where Speech Disappears into Silence

**AN:** Here it is! Sorry - this came out a little later than I would have expected, but I've been so incredibly busy with moving lately. I just got a new apartment, and the last week has been crazy, trying to get all my things from one place to another. But I still managed to find time in between to pound this baby out. I had worried that this chapter would be ridiculously hard to write, but in the end, everything worked out. It actually flowed out rather easily, to my surprise. Hopefully subsequent chapters are this easy? :P

Over 200 reviews total for this story - thanks everyone! It really means a lot to me, and I'm eternally grateful that you took the time to write me a little note back. Seriously.

Anyway, here it is...

* * *

**Stand and Watch It Burn**

**XIV. Where Speech Disappears into Silence**

Draco awoke suddenly. He sat straight up, feeling completely disoriented. Moonlight spilled in through the windows, drenching the room with silvery light. Something was different. Something had changed. He peered around the room, trying to get his bearings. Draco looked around and frowned. Everything was where it was supposed to be – he moved his left hand and looked down at the empty spot next to him – except Hermione.

_Where could she be?_ Draco rose out of bed and put on the dressing gown that had been draped on the chair by his bedside. Perhaps she was checking on Aiden. Draco tied the sash around his waist. She did that sometimes, when her son didn't quite sleep through the night, or she couldn't sleep. More than once, Draco had found her in her son's room, seated in a rocking chair, poring over a book.

He yawned, trying to shake the soft haze of sleep that still clouded his vision, while fervently hoping that Hermione's nightly excursions wouldn't become a regular sort of habit.

As Draco had thought, Hermione was in Aiden's room – but she wasn't slumped in the rocking chair, squinting at a book in dim light as he had expected. Instead, she was sitting on the windowsill by Aiden's crib, gazing out the window. The moonlight gave her face a grey glow, and cast her shadow long across the hardwood floor.

"Hey," he said softly.

Hermione didn't move at first. Draco wondered if she had fallen asleep. He lingered in the doorway for a while, wondering what to do. He was about to walk back to his room and go back to sleep (he had an early meeting the next day) when she spoke.

"I've been thinking."

Draco smiled. She always said that. And he always gave her the same reply. "And when aren't you?"

But Hermione didn't give him the annoyed smile she normally did. She didn't even turn to face him. "I couldn't sleep, thinking about how Ron, Harry, Ginny… how they all lied to me. For three years. They let me believe that things hadn't changed between us, that I had never loved you. For three years, I believed I had only ever loved Ron, and that there had been no one else. I never even so much as thought that I _could _love someone else. My life was simpler then, I think. It was simpler, easier, less complicated… but a lie."

Draco nodded, but he was confused. Where was she going with this?

"I still… They will always be important to me." Hermione's mouth was tightly drawn. "But they lied to me. They deceived me in a way I don't know if I could ever completely forgive or forget."

"That's completely understandable," Draco said, yawning a bit. He walked across the room and held out his hand to Hermione. "I know it's hard for you, Hermione… but it's late. Come back to bed. We can talk about this tomor-"

"You'd never lie to me, right, Draco?" Her eyes suddenly turned to him. They seemed to be pleading, looking for reassurance. "You wouldn't do that, would you?"

"Of course not," Draco replied reflexively. "Now come."

He tried to take Hermione's hand in his, but she pulled away. Her head turned back to face the window, away from him. Draco frowned slightly. What was going on?

It was silent for a while.

"The moon is nearly full."

"Yes."

"It was a night almost like this, wasn't it?"

"What?" Draco was completely lost now.

"When they came," Hermione replied, her voice sounding completely hollow. "When they came for you… and for me."

- - -

_Draco was dreaming. He had fallen asleep, content, with her in his arms. He had fallen asleep, thinking that this was heaven. This – here, had to be bliss._

_Draco was dreaming. He was walking in a forest, following the barely visible dirt road, beaten out before him. He wandered aimlessly down this one road, until suddenly, the road split. Draco stood there, staring at either side of him, trying to decide. He looked at one, then the other, then the other again. They looked nearly the same; but where would they lead to? _

Crash_. A sudden rush of cold air. _

"_What have we here?"_

_Draco shot up, his body rigid with terror. He knew that voice._

_They were here._

- - -

"I wasn't sure, then, what to make of it. I always thought we were so safe, so cut off from the world in Remus's cabin. Even though I always knew it was a possibility they'd find us, but I never thought they actually would. But they had come – Bellatrix, Rookwood, and Greyback. And they had taken our wands. All I could do was hope that they hadn't broken down all the security charms I had used to protect the cabin and that Harry and the Order had been alerted to it and would be coming soon. All I could do…" Hermione bit her lip. "All I could do was to hope that I… we would make it through alive."

Draco was stunned. "Her-Hermione, I…"

"You fought them at first," Hermione barreled on, ignoring Draco. "We tried."

- - -

_Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat. This wasn't good – this couldn't be good. She stared fiercely at the intruders, half-cloaked both by their hoods and the darkness, standing before her. But that night was lit by a bright moon, and Hermione could see who they were._

"_Draco," Bellatrix said in a slippery voice. "Dear nephew."_

"_Don't call me that," Draco spat out._

"_What do you want?" Hermione demanded._

"_Silly mudblood," Bellatrix cooed, leaning towards Hermione and stroking her cheek, "trying to be so brave!"_

_Hermione felt her body flinch, but she tried to control her reaction. "What do you want?" she repeated. "Harry and the rest of the Order will be here soon. They know you're here. They're on their way already, and they'll be here." She clenched her fists tightly to stop herself from shaking. "They'll be here and they have not forgotten anything you lot of done, so if you were wise you would leave."_

_Bellatrix smiled, and it was not pleasant. Hermione felt her insides twist as the dark woman started to circle them. "Oh, we won't stay long," she said in a singsong voice, twirling Hermione's wand in her hand. _

_Hermione's eyes followed Bellatrix as she moved around them. She was starting to have a feeling of dread. If they had meant to kill them, there was no way they'd still be alive… She glanced over at Draco, standing a few feet to her left. Draco's eyes met hers and she knew he was thinking the same thing._

- - -

"I was so scared. Terrified." Hermione looked upwards and breathed in and out slowly. "All I could think was how I could delay, put off what was coming. But the longer they didn't act, the more afraid I grew. What were they waiting for?"

Draco slumped down to the floor, his head dropping into his hands. "Oh, Merlin," he murmured.

"And then it began," Hermione whispered.

- - -

"_Why are you here?" Draco asked. "You have us unarmed and outnumbered. What do you want from us?"_

"_Always so impatient, my nephew." Bellatrix finished her circle and stopped in front of them. She reached over and patted Draco's cheek. He pulled away. Her expression immediately darkened. "You are a disgrace, Draco Malfoy – a disgrace. You have dishonored your family, your kind, your blood." Bellatrix tapped her wand against the bottom of Draco's chin. "In bed with a Mudblood. Your mother would be heartbroken."_

_Draco stood still, trying to not betray his emotions. His mother…_

"_How the mighty have fallen." Bellatrix snorted. "You have nothing now. No honour. No family. You ran to the Order like the sniveling lowlife you are…"_

"_You're wrong!" Hermione shouted. "You're the one with nothing! Draco has more than you could ever…"_

"Crucio."

- - -

Hermione closed her eyes. "I'd never… I'd never felt that before."

The words were barely audible, but Draco would have known what she had said, even if he couldn't understand what she was saying. He cringed, clenching his hands around his head.

"Complete, indescribable pain… in every part of my body. I couldn't move; I couldn't think; I couldn't _breathe_. I… All I knew was the most intense pain, and that's all I could see. I wanted to die… just so it would end."

"_I_ wanted to die," Draco managed to croak out. "I begged her to stop…"

"I know."

- - -

"_Stand up, wench," Rookwood said, taking Hermione roughly by the arm, forcing her to stand. Hermione wobbled on her feet, trying to get her bearings. Her vision was slowly returning, and her limbs were slowly going back to normal. She looked at Draco and saw that his face was a mask of stone._

"_Let her go." Hermione noticed that Draco's voice, though firm, had a hint of desperation to it. "It's me you want, isn't it? Leave her alone."_

"_Come now," Bellatrix sneered. "You don't mean to tell me you care for the Mudblood."_

_Hermione saw Draco stiffen. He remained silent._

"_Because if you did, you couldn't turn back."_

"_There is no turning back," Draco said quietly. _

_Bellatrix laughed. "Oh, is that what they told you? Is that what the great messiah Harry Potter told you? So naïve." She swept by him and walked over to Hermione. Bellatrix grabbed Hermione's face. Resisting, Hermione fought against Bellatrix's hand, but having been weakened by the Cruciatus Curse, Bellatrix successfully maneuvered her face. "Did she tell you that as well, your precious Mudbl-"_

"_Don't call her that!"_

"_It doesn't have to be that way, Draco. You can turn back."_

- - -

"In that moment, I believed you knew better. That you wouldn't listen to her." Hermione shook her head slowly. "But I was wrong."

- - -

_Draco hesitated. How could he possibly turn back? His mind was racing. No, no. He'd long given up on the possibility. It was impossible. He couldn't…_

"_You _can, _Draco. You can have all you ever wanted."_

"_I'm not… I can't kill her." Draco shook, even as the words left his mouth. The very thought…_

"_Of course not!" Bellatrix said silkily. She trilled a laugh. "What makes you think we want you to kill her, dear nephew of mine? No, no." She leaned in towards Draco. He moved away from her ever so slightly. "All you have to do," she whispered, "is to Obliviate her. Modify her memory. Wipe yourself from her memory. Has the rest of the Order really accepted you? They'd just as soon rather forget that you ever helped them. Wipe the Mudblood's memory, and it'll be like the last year never happened."_

"_Don't listen to her, Draco," Hermione said fiercely. _

_Rookwood shook her. "Shut up," he growled._

"_Just think of it," Bellatrix continued. "For sixteen years, you've wanted this, haven't you? You've wanted your father to be proud of you. You've wanted acceptance… now this is your chance, Draco!"_

"_Draco, please," she whispered. "You can't do this."_

"_One simple spell. That's it, that's it!" Bellatrix said as he slowly raised his wand. "One spell, and you can erase the past and embrace your future… and reclaim your place. One spell and you can be back where you belong!"_

- - -

"You shouldn't have listened."

"I know."

- - -

_Hermione looked back and forth, between Draco and Bellatrix. She saw the conflict in his eyes. "Draco, don't, it's a trick. Don't listen to her!"_

"_Just say the words." Bellatrix stepped away from Draco. Hermione stared in horror as Draco stood, affixed, his wand pointing straight at her. His eyes were cold. _

"_Draco, don't do this. It's a mistake, and you know it. She's just trying to trick you." Hermione had never felt so desperate in her life. "Draco, please, look at me." His grey eyes met hers and upon seeing the tears clouding them, flashed doubt. Hermione saw it and frantically reached out, hoping to save him. "Come back to me. Draco…"_

_She saw him hesitate. Bellatrix, too, must have noticed, because immediately she shouted out, "Everything you dreamed of your entire life, Draco! Respect! Glory! Honour! Your father would be so proud if he knew."_

"_Draco, remember what you said. You can't… you can have something else. Remember when you told me I'd be enough…" Hermione felt her heart sink as she saw Draco's eyes harden once more. "Draco, don't," she said feebly. "I… I love you."_

_But it was too late. She had lost him. His mouth was set in a firm line, and his eyes were cold as stone. _

"Obliviate_."_

- - -

"So you remember." It was a statement, not a question. Draco stared at the floor, his eyes beginning to burn.

"Yes."

"When? Did you know when you asked me at dinner?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. I just… I just remembered. I finally remember everything."

Draco continued to fixate his gaze down at the hardwood floor. He licked his lips, trying to find the right words. "Well…" He took a breath. "What now?"

Hermione said nothing, and they fell into silence. Draco continued to stare at the floor, examining the pattern of the grain in the wood. His mind was racing. His heart was, too. The silence was absolutely deafening; he could hear the throbbing in his ears and felt it pulsating through his body.

"I've been sitting here, just thinking," she finally said quietly. "I've been trying to understand why… _how_ you could not say anything. How you could… how you could _lie _to me…"

"I…" Draco's voice faltered. "I never li…"

"Yes, you did, Draco," Hermione said vehemently. She turned towards him, and he could see the rage in her eyes. "Even if you never explicitly lied to me, you lied by omission. You left out the one night that changed everything forever. You lied to me, just like Harry. Just like Ginny. Just like Ron."

"I'm not like _Weasel_."

"Yes, you are!" Hermione was shouting and standing now. "You… you _lied_ to me, just like he did! You deceived me… you used my love for you as a shield while you let me believe that we were in love without any deceit! You let me think there was never a moment of doubt –"

"I was scared!" Draco's hands were in fists now. "I didn't know what you'd do…"

"Well," Hermione said in a dangerously low voice, "you should have known what I would do if I ever found out about your lies."

Draco felt his stomach hollow out and collapse.

"You're no better than Ron – what you did… I've been trying to convince myself that it was different somehow. I've been trying to excuse you, to reason with myself… but it's no use. Now that I remember, I can't pretend that it didn't happen. It happened. And you lied to me. You lied to me for weeks and weeks… and even when I asked you about it, you couldn't look me in the eye and tell me the truth."

"I'm sorry," Draco whispered. "I'm so sorry."

Hermione's face betrayed no emotions. "For some things, sorry isn't enough."

Draco had collapsed on the floor. He wasn't sure how long he had his head down, but when he ventured to look up again, he saw Hermione standing in the doorway, a bag slung over one shoulder and Aiden on her other hip.

"Goodbye, Draco."

And then, she was gone.

x x x

"Eat something."

Olivia pushed a plate across the table towards Hermione, but as she had in the last few days, Hermione merely prodded her food around the plate. This wasn't healthy, Olivia knew. Except for the first day, when Hermione had shown up at her place in the middle of the night, sobbing, babbling nonsensically, Hermione had shown almost no emotion, which worried Olivia. Hermione had barely even said a word. Olivia knew something had gone terribly wrong with Draco, but she wasn't sure yet exactly what it was. For the moment though, she was more concerned about Hermione's health.

"Please eat," she pleaded. "You're getting far too thin. You've barely touched any food in days. Just take a bite."

Hermione continued to prod her food around the plate. "You should go," she said finally. "You'll be late for work."

"I took the day off."

"You shouldn't have done that, Olivia!" Hermione was looking up now. "You have to –"

"Look after my friend," Olivia finished for Hermione. She sighed and shook her head. "Hermione, you're really worrying me. I – Can you please just tell me what's wrong?"

Hermione remained silent. Her eyes seemed to brighten, tears threatening to fall, but she didn't say anything.

"Hermione, I know something happened, and I know it must hurt." Olivia bit her lip. "But you can't just bottle it up inside. It doesn't help. It only makes the hurt more painful. I… I would know," she said haltingly. "When… When Robert died, I was devastated. Some days, I would just lay there thinking, wondering what I could have possibly done wrong to deserve that sort of punishment. I didn't speak to anyone. I stayed at home, refusing to see my parents. I quit my job. I shut myself out from the rest of the world. But it doesn't help to do that. It only makes things worse because you internalize your grief, and it grows. It poisons everything. Pain… grief is meant to be shared. It is the only way we can survive."

Olivia could hear Hermione's breathing become more labored. She ventured on.

"I don't know what happened, Hermione, but I know you're strong and you can make it through this," said Olivia. "But you have to try. You have to face what happened. Think of Aiden."

At this, Hermione let out a dry, strangled sob. The tears that had been wanting to fall did, streaming down her cheeks. Olivia got up, walked over to Hermione, and wrapped her arms around the crying girl.

For a few minutes, Hermione sat there, trying to calm her breathing. Olivia sat down in the chair next to her. She would wait as long as she needed to. These things took time – she knew.

"I…" Hermione started and stopped. She licked her lips and tried again. "You remember how I couldn't remember what happened the night Draco was arrested?"

Olivia nodded, encouraging Hermione to go on.

"And you said I had to find out, that it was absolutely important. So I asked Draco, but as I thought, he said he didn't… he didn't want to talk about it." Hermione's voice trailed off a bit, and her gaze dulled over. "He got really upset, and I decided it might be better to just let it go."

"I see," Olivia said slowly.

"But… that night… I remembered." Hermione whispered.

Olivia sucked in a quick breath. "And?"

"And Death Eaters had come to find us that night, including… including Bellatrix Lestrange, Draco's aunt. She convinced him that he could go back, rejoin the Death Eaters. So he tried to Obliviate me," Hermione finished dully.

"What?" Olivia exclaimed.

Hermione said nothing. She sat there, staring into nothingness. "He lied to me," she said in a small voice. "He lied to me… I thought… I thought he loved me." And she burst out into sobs again.

Olivia reached over and tried to soothe Hermione as best as she could. She gently patted Hermione on the back until Hermione's sobs subsided. "I'm sure he did – and still does," Olivia said quietly. "But that doesn't mean people don't do stupid things to the people they love."

"I don't know what to do, Olivia," Hermione said. "I left Ron because he lied to me for three years. And now I've left Draco because he lied to me. Why is my whole life a lie?"

"It is not!"

"It is. Nothing I knew was real. I don't know what I did wrong…"

"This isn't your fault, Hermione," Olivia said adamantly. "Ron, Harry, Ginny – they lied about Draco. And Draco lied about that night he was arrested. You're just… stuck in this situation not of your own making. Don't you _dare _blame yourself."

"Where do I go from here?" Hermione asked. "I wasn't thinking straight when I just up and left Ron for Draco… I cut myself off from my _life_, not just Ron! Harry and Ginny are my best friends, and the Weasleys, Remus and Tonks, and just everyone… I… Could I ever go back?"

"Could you forgive him?" Olivia asked. "Ron?"

Hermione paused. "Some things are unforgivable."

"And is this one of them?"

Hermione did not reply.

They sat there for a while, both thinking rapidly. Olivia suddenly frowned.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"I thought… I thought you said _Ron_ modified your memory. But now you're saying Draco did?"

Hermione smiled bitterly. "I said Draco _tried_."

"Tried?"

"It didn't hold," Hermione explained. "I woke up in St. Mungo's distressed and confused, but after a while, I regained my memory… and I was…"

"Devastated."

Hermione nodded.

"So it didn't work, then – Draco's Memory Charm." Olivia said slowly. "He didn't have his heart in it then."

"But he still tried. And afterward, I was so brokenhearted. Everyone tried to help me best they could. Harry and Ginny tried to distract me. Molly cooked tableloads of food for me. Remus brought me books, Tonks would try to cheer me up, and Ron was with me every waking moment. But… It didn't help. It was just too much for me to handle."

"Of course," Olivia interjected. "Of course it was! It would be for _anyone_, Hermione."

"I just don't know," Hermione whispered. "What do I do now, Olivia?"

x x x

Narcissa had found the last few days rather agreeable. The Manor now had two less inhabitants and now felt somehow less constraining – not that Malfoy Manor was small by any stretch of the imagination. But now that that… _person_ was no longer roaming the Manor, Narcissa could go to any room without fear of running into… _her_.

She was now seated primly in her favorite drawing room – the green one – and sipping tea. Narcissa was awaiting Draco's return. He had told her that his errands would be wrapped up sometime in the afternoon. Remembering this, Narcissa took a glance at the clock on the wall. She frowned. It was nearly dinner time.

"Milly?"

With a crack, the house elf appeared. "Yes, mistress?"

Narcissa set down her tea cup. "Has Draco returned yet?"

Milly bobbed her head up and down. "Oh, yes, mistress! Young master has arrives almost one hours ago!"

Narcissa frowned ever so slightly. "An hour ago? Where is he?"

"Milly thinks young master sits in his gardens."

_What is he doing there?_ She wondered. "All right, thank you Milly. Please start preparing dinner."

After Milly disappeared, Narcissa slowly got up and made her way to the back of the house. In the gardens – again. How could he possibly have so much to do back there? And such hard labor. Narcissa would never understand it. Why do it when you could have the house elves do it? After all, that was why they were there, wasn't it?

She found him in the little nook in the garden that she knew was his favorite – a little gated corner that Draco had tended to so closely.

But Narcissa was shocked by the scene she found when she arrived. Draco was sitting on the bench, calm and quiet, but clearly he had not been so earlier. The beautiful bush filled with flowering white roses that once stood in the middle of the garden, serving as its beautiful centerpiece, had been thrashed. It looked like someone had taken a huge club and smashed it several times. The bush was surrounded by hundreds of scattered white petals and fallen leaves. The branches of the bush were barren of any whole roses left. They had all been broken.

"Draco?"

No reply.

"Draco," she tried again, "what hap-"

"Leave me alone."

Narcissa furrowed her brow and took a few steps closer. "Draco…"

"Mother, leave me. _Please_."

There was an urgency in his voice that Narcissa simply couldn't ignore. Something was terribly wrong. Haltingly, Narcissa took a few steps back, staring at her son. He was sitting there, back upright, and his gaze straight ahead. Draco's eyes were cold as stone, and his body was rigid. She looked into them, wondering.

Walking away, Narcissa knew. She knew what was wrong with her son, and her spirits fell, knowing there was nothing she could do. While her heart had rejoiced at the departure of Hermione Granger, it was clear that his was absolutely broken.

* * *

**AN: **As always, reviews greatly appreciated! Hope you liked it.


	25. From Another View

**AN: **Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last one. Great lot. :) Well, we're nearing the end, and I'm feeling it. I can't believe we're on the 25th chapter!!

Here's another "memory" so to speak... it's a bit different than the rest, so I hope you like it! This is probably the last of the memories which I'm sure you're all glad to hear. ;) From hereon out, it'll be mostly in the present.

* * *

**Stand and Watch It Burn**

**XXV. From Another View**

"How is she?" Ginny held her hands, clasped, up to her chest. Just behind her, a group of wide-eyed expectant redheads stared at him. Harry looked from one face to another, each waiting anxiously to hear his answer. The Weasley clan had all come to St. Mungo's when Harry had sent them an urgent message reporting that Hermione had been attacked. They had been waiting in the sitting room for a while, waiting for some news.

"Alive," Harry replied. "She came to an hour ago, but she didn't say a word. She's sleeping now… she seems stable, but they're not sure what the extent of her injuries are."

Mrs. Weasley burst out into strangled sobs, and George did his best to console his mother. Arthur Weasley let out the breath he was holding. "Have you informed her parents?"

"Did." Harry sighed. "They'll be here soon."

"They'll have questions," Mr. Weasley commented. "What happened, Harry?"

How could he say? _What_ could he say? Should he tell them what he saw when he arrived? The horrible scene that was laid out before his eyes? But he couldn't… he just couldn't. It would mean that it was real. "We… We're not sure yet," Harry finally said. "We're still trying to sort it out. Kingsley and Tonks are at the scene trying to see what evidence was left behind, but there isn't much – whoever came pretty much left the cabin a wreck. Remus is going to need a new home."

"Any ideas?" Fred asked, sidling up next to his father.

Harry started to shake his head. "Not really."

Mr. Weasley nodded and leaned in towards Harry. "How's Ron taking it?"

"Not well," Harry replied. "Not that any of us are. But he refuses to leave her side, no matter what the mediwizards say."

As he said this, Ron stumbled out of the room, his eyes bloodshot. Harry suspected he had been crying.

"Ron." Mr. Weasley took his youngest son into his arms and held him close.

Ron barely reacted to his father's attempt at comforting him. "What have you guys been talking about?"

"I was updating them," Harry replied cautiously. "About what happened."

Ron's eyes narrowed. "Did you tell them about Malfoy?" he growled.

All heads jerked up and turned to face Ron at this. Mr. Weasley frowned. "Draco? What does Draco have to do with this?"

"Everything! Malfoy was the one who cursed and tortured her…"

Harry interceded. "We don't know that yet…"

"Yes, we do, Harry! You saw what I did! You saw Malfoy there with his wand, cursing Hermione!"

There was a small gasp from Ginny. The rest of the Weasleys could only manage blank stares.

"No," said Ginny in disbelief. "He wouldn't –"

"I saw it," Ron spat out in defiance. "I saw him with my own eyes, standing with the other Death Eaters! He obviously was acting as a spy for them! Who knows how long he's been giving them information? Who knows how many people _died_ because of him?"

Ron's voice was getting louder and louder. Harry looked around nervously at the other visitors and mediwizards that were now all staring. "Ron, don't…"

"Hermione could have died, Harry! If we had shown up any later, who knows what the bloody bastard would have done…"

"Ron! I already told you! You need to stop shouting! Things are dangerous right now, and we can't have you ruining everything by blowing your top off!"

Ron shut his mouth but continued glowering. "Fine," he forced out through gritted teeth. He turned and stalked off, down the hallway, away from the rest of them. Mr. Weasley sighed as he watched his youngest son leave.

"You must understand, Harry. It hurts him to see Hermione like that."

Harry's mouth formed a straight line. "He's not the only one."

"No," Mr. Weasley agreed, "but he cares a lot for Hermione. He still…"

"Yeah." Harry knew that Ron had suffered when Hermione had ended things between them. Ron rarely spoke of it, but Harry could see the pain in Ron's eyes anytime he saw her or heard her voice. He had tried, of course, to get Ron to open up, but his friend merely changed the subject anytime Harry tried to bring it up. Ron was never one to share about such things, but Harry knew that it ate at him as it festered inside.

Mr. Weasley turned to Harry and asked in a low voice, "Is it true? What Ron said – is it true?"

Harry hesitated. "We did find other Death Eaters. And we did find Draco, with his wand, and Hermione was already unconscious…"

"But it doesn't mean he hurt her," Ginny protested. She had been eavesdropping over Harry's shoulder. When he and her father both looked at her, Ginny moved closer to them. "I don't believe it… I don't want to."

"Neither do I," Harry admitted. "Neither do I."

x x x

Remus Lupin felt rather tired. The full moon had just passed, but as always, the work was never ending. He had his mission with the werewolves up near Scotland to deal with, as well as secretive communications with several double agents around the world, every conversation vital but dangerous at the same time. The war was starting to reach its climax; Remus recognized the signs. The tension was reaching a high point. Outbreaks were peppering the news. It was much like the first war. Sooner or later, something had to give.

Meanwhile, they soldiered on at home, the first front of the war. And at every turn, there were losses. Friends – some nearer than others, but each so precious and valiant – fell at every step. And every day, Remus carried on, trying to ignore the burden he felt squarely on his shoulders. He knew he wasn't the only one fighting, and that his burden was not the greatest of all.

But some losses were harder to bear than others. And loss came in many forms, not just death.

Remus looked up at the building in front of him. The Burrow. Sighing a bit, he walked up to the front door and let himself in.

"Hello, Remus."

"'lo Molly," Remus replied, smiling at the matriarch.

Molly was bustling about the kitchen, as usual, putting together another large meal. She had a large, steaming pot in her hands and she was transporting it from one counter to another. Remus could smell its delicious aroma as it wafted across the kitchen.

"Staying for dinner?" she asked almost breathlessly. Molly placed the pot down and brushed her hands against her apron, dusting the flour off her palms.

"If you wouldn't mind."

"How many times do I have to tell you, Remus? You're always welcome here." Molly smiled kindly at the disheveled werewolf standing in front of her. Her gaze drifted down to what Remus was holding in his hands. It was a tattered paperback. "Here to see Hermione, then?" she surmised.

It was more of a statement than a question, but Remus nodded in response anyway. "How is she today?"

"The same." Molly was staring down at the bowl in front of her. Picking up the spoon she started stirring what looked like to Remus sticky batter. "She's up. Still not speaking."

To be honest, Remus hadn't expected anything else, really. The others were getting anxious with Hermione's… condition. But Remus understood. He knew a little about being betrayed by someone you trusted more than life itself.

"Where's Harry and Ron?"

"Trying to decode some message or the other," Molly replied distractedly. "They're having a tougher go of it without Hermione, you know."

Remus chuckled. "She was always the brains of the lot. One of the brightest witches I've ever had the privilege to meet."

"Same." Molly shook her head. "And to think such a fine mind ruined… _ruined_ by that… that dirty little…"

Remus interceded. "We don't know the extent of Hermione's injuries yet."

"She hasn't spoken, Remus." Molly's eyes glistened with oncoming tears. "She hasn't said a single word since she left St. Mungo's. What are we – am I supposed to think? It's been days, weeks nearly. What if he destroyed her memory? Ruined her mind? I can't bear to think…" Her breathing quickened. "And to see how it hurts the rest of them – Ron, Harry… all of them. It haunts them. I can see it in their eyes."

Cautiously, Remus put a comforting arm around Molly who was silently sobbing. "It'll be all right," Remus reminded her.

Molly straightened up and used her apron to dab at her eyes. "Of course it will," she said quickly. "I'm just being silly." She sniffed and then started stirring the sticky batter again. "Now you get on, and I'll finish making this pudding for dinner."

Remus smiled warmly at her as he departed. His smile faded slightly as he ascended the stairs to the room Hermione was staying in. She was sharing a room with Ginny; no one trusted her to be alone.

The door was slightly ajar, and Remus pushed it gently. The room appeared as it always did, every time he had come. Two beds were set up, side by side. Hermione's bed was by the window, and she was sitting up, staring listlessly out the half-drawn curtains. She did not react when she heard the door opening.

"Hello, Hermione."

At the sound of his voice, Hermione finally looked from the window and turned towards Remus. Her face remained stoic, even as her eyes met his.

"How are you on this fine day?" Remus nodded toward the window. "Summer is getting near, isn't it? It's a lovely day – the roses are nearly in full bloom."

Remus could have sworn he saw Hermione tense a little at this. But the moment passed, and Remus decided it was merely his imagination.

He walked across the room and seated himself in the chair at Hermione's bedside. "Did you like the last novel I brought?" Remus looked at the nightstand where the last tome he had brought – _East of Eden_ – lay, seemingly untouched. Unfazed, Remus propped up the book he had brought along. "I brought you a new one. _The Unbearable Lightness of Being_. I just recently read it and thought it might interest you."

Gently, Remus laid the novel in Hermione's lap. Her fingers curled ever so slightly around the worn paperback. Remus had bought it used, from a Muggle bookstore years ago and had only recently decided to read it. It was a strangely lyrical narrative that helped him relax in the late nights when he felt restless and couldn't fall asleep.

Hermione's gaze was fixed on the book in her lap, though Remus wasn't sure if she was really looking _at_ it so much as she was looking at its general direction.

"Hermione." Remus cleared his throat. "Hermione, I'm not sure… I'm not sure what sort of state you're in. Mentally, emotionally… I don't even know if you remember anything that's happened." Remus looked at Hermione, hoping for some sort of indicator, but her face remained blank. "I know something of… being in your position. I can't say I understand fully because that would be too presumptuous of me –but I know something. I don't…"

Remus's voice trailed off. It was too hard. Too difficult to think about it. But Hermione's brown eyes were staring at him. He had her attention. Swallowing hard, Remus tried to carry on. She needed to hear what he had to say. He knew that.

"Almost sixteen years ago," Remus said quietly, "I was put in a similar position you find yourself in now. James and Lily…" Remus sighed and shook his head. "And worse – I believed Sirius was the traitor. I believed that the man they had entrusted their lives and their son's life had betrayed them. It was devastating. I was devastated – I had lost all my best friends… my _only _friends. And I hated Sirius." Remus closed his eyes briefly before continuing. "I never told anyone that. But I hated him. I hated him for being weak, for giving in. I hated him for not being stronger." Remus looked up at the ceiling, trying to calm himself. "But then," he continued, "as we all found out, Sirius was innocent. So all's well ends well, I suppose." Remus dropped his head and looked back at Hermione, trying to smile. It was difficult. "My point being I know how you might be feeling now, how hurt you are. And I just want you to know that I understand, that you're not alone, no matter how much it feels like it."

Hermione was still looking at him. She blinked. And then turned away.

Remus sighed. He tried. And he wondered, too, if the pain of Sirius's betrayal could truly match the pain Hermione now felt over Draco's. Perhaps not.

"Molly almost has dinner ready. So, I'll see you down there, then."

Remus turned and left without another word. If he had stayed longer, perhaps he would have seen the single tear that dropped down Hermione's cheek.

x x x

"Silence! Silence!"

The pounding of the gavel echoed through the frenzied courtroom. The mania was at a fever pitch. Ron looked around anxiously at the judge who sat before them, moving his sweeping, plum-colored robes from his elbows so he could sit more comfortably. When things appeared to be more orderly, the judge pulled himself up to his full length in his big wooden chair and said slightly pompously, "Court is now in session."

The day that they had all been dreading had now arrived.

The day of Draco Malfoy's trial.

They had all argued about what to do for this day. Harry had been summoned to testify, but he was still unsure. He argued that he had a conflict of interest, that he was busy doing other things – but Ron knew the truth. Harry felt uncomfortable testifying against Malfoy. Ron clenched his fist. Even now, Harry didn't see! He and Harry had gotten into an awful row over it, and the outcome was inconclusive. Even this morning, Harry seemed unsure of his course of action. He had left early that morning before anyone else was up, leaving a note saying he needed a walk to clear his mind and that he would see the rest of them at the courtroom later that day.

Ron of course, could have testified, but Harry's word carried much more weight. And perhaps Harry knew that too.

And there was the question of what to do with Hermione.

"We can't just keep her cooped up here, alone!"

"Well, we can't exactly bring her either, now can we, Harry?"

"You're being unreasonable, Ron…"

"Harry, Ron, please, both of you…"

"No, Remus, listen to him! Hermione needs to go to this trial! For all we know, it could trigger something…"

"We don't know that! Harry, it could just make things worse…"

"You're just scared of her seeing Malfoy! You're still not over her leaving him for you! Admit it!"

"Harry, that was uncalled for. Ron, where…?"

Ron had walked out. He had gotten furious. But also, it was because he knew what Harry was saying was true. He _was_ afraid of Hermione seeing Malfoy. He was afraid of what it might do to Hermione, and they weren't completely unselfish reasons either. Ron shouldn't have just walked out, he knew… but sometimes the truth was too hard to hear.

In the end, he had conceded that Harry and Remus were right. Hermione had to go, and she had to be there.

But it didn't mean he had to like it.

"First order of business…" The judge looked over his spectacles at the papers sitting in front of him. "Please bring in the defendant."

The crowd went insane again as Malfoy entered the room. Malfoy, looking a little more pointed and even more pale, walked in, arrogant as ever. Ron narrowed his eyes.

He felt a sudden movement next to him. Ron turned to look at Hermione, and he knew where her eyes were fixated.

Neither he nor Harry believed that Hermione had forgotten everything, like some of the mediwizards and other members of the Order speculated. Hermione's silence was baffling. She still hadn't spoken, and no one could really understand why. But Ron knew.

And Ron could see it in Hermione's eyes now, as her gaze rested on Malfoy. She remembered… she remembered something. The anger, the hatred… the pain in her eyes.

"Draco Abraxus Malfoy," the judge said in his rickety voice. "You are here on charges that you have conspired with He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named for the death of Albus Dumbledore, three counts of treason, and assault. How do you plead?"

Malfoy remained deathly silent, his eyes cold and grey.

"Very well," he said. "Will the prosecution please begin their case?"

A lawyer seated on the table opposite from Malfoy stood up, a winning smile across his handsome face. "Thank you, your Honour. First, I'd like to remind the jury that…"

- - -

The trial had carried on for an hour. Ron was feeling slightly overwhelmed by the formality of it all. He wasn't really sure what the purpose was. This trial was more of a show than a real trial. Everyone knew what would happen. These trials were more for morale than anything else – a proof that the Ministry was prevailing in this war.

"For my next witness," Ron heard in the distance, "I'd like to call to the stand Harry Potter."

There were little gasps and yelps of surprise from the crowd as everyone turned toward the opening door. Ron's eyes widened as he watched his friend walk through the crowd and towards the stand. Around him, Ron could hear murmurs of confusion and wonderment. Ron, too, wondered what Harry might say.

After Harry was sworn in, he took his seat. His face looked very severe.

"Please state for the record your full name."

"Harry James Potter."

"Thank you." The prosecutor – now identified as Thomas Fitzwilliam – circled around his table back to where his prepared questions were. "Now, Mr. Potter, what can you tell us about the night of April 29?"

Harry straightened up before answering. "We received a distress call in the middle of the night. It was from another Order member…"

"Hermione Granger."

"Right. As soon as I received this call, I quickly got the other members who were on duty…"

"Can you name them please?"

"Nymphadora Tonks and Ronald Weasley. We knew where Hermione was stationed, so we went there as quickly as we could."

"Can you give me an approximate time?"

"I'd say about midnight."

"And what did you see?"

Harry's expression was grim. "I saw Hermione stretched out on the floor…" Ron saw Harry hesitate. This was it. This was that moment. Ron turned to look at Malfoy, but if he had been expecting to see any sort of emotion in Malfoy's eyes, he was sorely disappointed. Malfoy's steely eyes remained emotionless as ever.

Taking a deep breath, Harry continued. "And the only other person there was Draco Malfoy. He was holding his wand."

Fitzwilliam nodded as he paced. "Why was Mr. Malfoy there?"

"I don't know. Reckon he was on a mission for the Death Eaters."

Ron's eyes widened. Harry just lied.

"What did Mr. Malfoy do when you and Ms. Tonks and Mr. Weasley arrived?"

"Nothing," Harry said. "He just… stood there."

"Thank you, Mr. Potter. Your Honour, I have no more questions."

x x x

"The judge was a bit of an ostrich, don't you think?" Ginny asked as she pulled on her pajamas. "All he needed was some feathers, and that'd have done the trick."

Hermione gave no response as she sat, upright in bed. Ginny bit her lip, wondering. Every night she tried to engage her friend in some sort of conversation, hoping to bring a sense of normalcy to Hermione's life. Ginny's method to helping Hermione was something akin to pretending nothing happened at all. It was, Ginny believed, better than dwelling on a past that should not be relived. So, each night, Ginny tried to talk to Hermione as they normally would.

Only there was nothing normal about their conversations anymore.

"Dinner was good, don't you think?" Ginny remarked. "Mum makes the best pumpkin pasties, I think."

Ginny looked over at Hermione. Her friend was getting awfully thin, Ginny noticed. At dinner, Hermione had barely touched her food. Ginny had heard her mother disparaging this one night. Hermione was barely eating.

Hermione remained silent. She was sitting at the edge of her bed, her hands gripping the edges. She was staring fixatedly at the floor – staring at nothing and staring off.

"I wonder what we'll have for lunch tomorrow," Ginny rambled on. "I reckon Harry and Ron will be taking off soon… They have that one last Horcrux to find and it's been tough… but hopefully that breakthrough Remus had will help."

Ginny had just turned her back when she suddenly heard a loud noise. She whirled around and found Hermione, crouched over, sobbing hysterically.

"Hermione!"

"Oh, Ginny, what did I do?" Hermione's voice was shaky.

"Nothing!" Ginny wrapped her arms around Hermione, willing the love and warmth in her heart to lighten Hermione's sorrow. So Harry had been right – the trial did trigger something… "This isn't your fault, Hermione. You need to stop thinking that it is."

"How could he just… Did the last year mean nothing to him?" Hermione's face was drenched with tears now. "Did… Did I mean nothing to him?"

Ginny said nothing. What could she say?

"I thought he loved me," Hermione choked out. "He said so. He said he loved me, Gin."

"I know."

"Then how could he do this to me?"

Ginny shook her head. "I… I don't know either."

Sobs racked Hermione's body and she shook with uncontrollable force. "Why did he do it? I… I don't understand… I just wish…" Hermione's words trailed off as her body slumped lifelessly to the ground.

"Hermione!"

x x x

Ron stared at Hermione's sleeping form, feeling cold.

He had known it. He had told Harry. _He_ had been right. He should not have let Harry talk him into allowing Hermione to go to the trial. Only bad could come out of it, he knew. He had told Harry, and there was nothing Harry could say.

Ron felt miserable. When Ginny had come running down, shrieking something about Hermione collapsing, the whole family had been thrown into chaos. Ron had insisted on staying by her side the entire time. He couldn't bear to leave her side even one second. Ginny had been there before, but she'd left briefly, to go find Harry. Harry had been working with Fitzwilliam and talking to Aurors, and so he had not been at the Burrow.

Hermione had not come to. The mediwizard on duty had diagnosed it as an anxiety attack. When he asked Ron and Ginny if anything had happened that might have brought it on, they merely looked at each other, silent.

Ron's heart was tortured. He had never stopped loving Hermione and he knew that. Ron had tried to convince himself that he was happy if Hermione was happy, but every minute of seeing her in Malfoy's arms burned at him. Even being in the same room was too much. The smug look on Malfoy's face infuriated him. It wasn't right. It wasn't.

"Ron?"

He sat upright. "Hermione?"

She blinked slowly, trying to adjust to the low level of light in the room.

"Have you been here the whole time?"

"Yeah."

A brief pause. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"What?" Ron wasn't sure if he heard wrong. "What for?"

"For hurting you," Hermione continued. She swallowed. "God, I don't know. I can't... I can't..."

"Hermione, shh..." Ron reached over and tried to pat her gently on the arm.

"I didn't mean to, you know?"

Ron bit his lip. "I... I know."

Hermione didn't say anything for a while. Ron sat uncomfortably, wondering. Then after a few minutes, Ron knew why - Hermione was crying.

"Hermione! Are you..."

"I'm so sorry, Ron!" She burst out sobbing now. "Oh, God. Why... why did this have to happen? I don't understand. I... Why? I don't... I..."

Ron sat on Hermione's bed and wrapped his arms around her, trying to still her. Soon, her sobs subsided. Ron released her.

"Sleep, Hermione. Everything... everything will be all right."

Hermione laid her head down but didn't close her eyes just yet. She looked at Ron, her normally bright eyes dulled with heartbreak.

"Sometimes, I just wish..." Ron saw a tear trickle down Hermione's face. "I just wish none of it never happened. I wish I could just forget it all..."

Hermione's voice faded as she slipped back into sleep.

x x x

"Which way is she?"

"Follow me."

Harry walked with Ginny as they went down the halls of St. Mungo's. Hadn't they just been here, he wondered? He sighed and shook his head.

"How is she?"

"I don't know…" Ginny bit her lip. "Ron was with her when I left about an hour ago. We're almost there… we just need to turn this corner. Oh… that's strange. Ron's outside."

Ron looked pale and clammy. He was leaning against the wall, staring straight ahead, but Harry could see that his gaze was blank. He wasn't looking at anything.

"Ron?" Ginny ran towards her brother. Harry quickened his step to match Ginny's pace. The concern rife in Ginny's voice plagued his heart as well. The blank stare on Ron's face was absolutely terrifying. "Ron? Is everything all right?"

Ron was still speechless. Ginny stood in front of him, trying to catch his blank gaze. "Ron?" she repeated in a small, distressed voice.

"Did something happen?" Harry pressed. "Did something happen to Hermione? Is she…?" Harry stopped. He couldn't bring himself to finish that question. Hermione had to be all right. She just…

"I did it."

Harry and Ginny looked at each other curiously. "Did what?" Ginny asked.

Ron swallowed. "I… I Obliviated her memory."

"You did _what?"_ Harry's jaw slackened and his mouth was gaping with shock and horror. "Ron, what the _bloody hell _were you thinking?!"

"I…" Ron shook his head. "I had to, Harry! You saw her! She's been in agony since Malfoy's betrayal and then today…" He clenched his fists. "Harry, it hurts me more than you'll ever know, to see her in pain like that. I can't… I can't take it anymore! I couldn't! I just… I love her, Harry. You know I do." His best friend looked to him with pleading eyes. "I always have, and I always will. I just wanted her to stop hurting so much."

"Ron, you shouldn't have done that!"

"But Har-"

"I don't care!" Harry cut Ron off, not wanting to hear his excuses. He turned to Ginny who had remained silent. She was looking intently at her brother, still wordless. "Tell him, Gin."

Ginny pursed her lips before speaking. "Did you go deep?"

"Ginny!"

The redhead turned on Harry. "He's right," she said. "Harry, you saw how much Hermione's been hurting since that night. We're her friends. We can't just let her suffer and not do anything about it."

Harry ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "I know! But –"

"But what?" Ginny crossed to stand in front of Harry between him and her brother. "There are no buts, Harry! We gave Malfoy the benefit of the doubt. We _trusted_ him. We trusted that he turned, that he loved Hermione… and look what good it did us!" Ginny shook her head. "You have no idea, Harry – _no idea_ – half the suffering Hermione's been through. Last night…" Ginny's voice trailed off. "Just trust me, Harry." Tears glistened in her brown eyes.

"I know Hermione's hurting," Harry said. "I _know_ she is. But… you can't… you can't just wipe out the past and pretend it never happened! Things don't work like that. It's not right."

Ron opened his arms. "What if it were Ginny, Harry? What if it were my sister instead of Hermione? What would you have done?" When Harry hesitated, Ron folded his arms back around him. "So you see," Ron whispered, "maybe it's not so wrong."

The three stood, avoiding each other's eyes, all deep in thought. Was Ron right? Harry wondered. What if it were Ginny? What would he have done? Would he have done the same as Ron? It was hard to say; love did drive a man to do absurd things. Still, a small voice in the back of Harry's mind shouted that there was just something wrong about it all… but it was slowly being drowned by the image of Hermione sobbing, broken and brokenhearted.

Ginny finally broke the silence. "Besides," she said in a uneven voice, "what's done is done. Ron's already… already wiped her memory. Nothing we can do now."

Both Ginny and Ron looked at Harry a bit nervously. He knew they were waiting for what he might say. "What are we going to tell the others?" Harry asked almost matter-of-factly.

The tension that had been obvious on Ginny's and Ron's faces disappeared almost immediately. "We'll just tell them Hermione's started speaking again, that Malfoy's Memory Charm must have worked," Ginny said. She drummed her fingers on her arm as she thought. "And to not mention Malfoy to Hermione anymore. Ever again. Let him rot in her memory as the foolish schoolboy who called her names."

When Harry still did not look convinced, Ginny continued. "This is an act of kindness, Harry…"

"To who?" Harry asked angrily. "Who is this an act of kindness towards? Enlighten me."

"Hermione, for one," Ginny said softly. "She'll never have to relive that night, ever again. She'll never have to know that the one she loved betrayed her. She… she'll never have to suffer the regret of having loved him."

Harry's shoulders slackened. She was right. He knew she was – and yet…

"It's a kindness to Malfoy too." The features on Ginny's face hardened. "Not that he deserves it," she added. "But it is. Better that she hate him for his childish arrogance than to loathe him for breaking her heart."

"That's cold, Gin."

"I know." Ginny's eyes flashed. "But I wasn't the one who lied to the Wizengamot about Malfoy. You knew why he was there, Harry."

"That was different," Harry said defensively. "I didn't…"

"Maybe it is different," Ron interrupted. "But what you did, Harry? It's unchangeable, just like this."

When Harry didn't respond, Ginny continued. "We can never speak of this again. And we can't let anyone else know. _Ever_. Or we'll all have hell to pay."

* * *

**AN: **An assortment of memories from other perspectives. Hopefully this provides a fuller, more in-depth perspective of the past. And with that done, we can carry on in the present...

Review please!


	26. Behind the Shadow

**AN: **It's been a while. I'm sorry. I know; I should be strung up and left there to suffer. But thank you for those of you still sticking with this story. It's nearing the end, and the next chapter is nearly finished!

Thank you to everyone who's reviewed. Really provides the sort of inspiration I need.

Without further ado...

* * *

**Stand and Watch It Burn**

**XVI. Behind the Shadow**

Hermione stacked some books into her arms. The smell of old parchment was intoxicating, and she loved it. Being surrounded by books and the written wisdom of philosophers and scholars before her was all she dreamed of when she was a little girl, and in a strange way, her dream was now coming true. Not exactly the way she planned it, true – and not exactly how she had originally envisioned it when she was young, but how could Hermione had known of witches and wizards when she was six?

She looked over the stack one more time to make sure she had everything. _History of the Use of Herbs in Potions, Sage: the Wisdom of Time, _and _The Thyme Continuum_… These went into the Magical Plants and Herbs section.

"Hey, you need help?"

"No, O, I'm fine." Hermione smiled at her approaching friend. Hermione had been helping Olivia at the library the last few days. She had made sure to keep a low profile, lest someone recognize her. While she wasn't hiding from anyone, Hermione didn't want an awkward confrontation, and moreover, she didn't want to face the people from her past life just yet.

Olivia returned the smile. "You're taking to this like a fish in water. I'm a little worried that I'll be out of a job pretty soon."

"I still have much to learn," Hermione replied cheekily. "You're light years ahead of me. It does feel good to be working again, though."

"You were never the kind to just stay home."

"I've been sending out inquiries," Hermione replied. "I figure if everything else in my life is a mess, the least I should do is figure out a job and a steady income."

Olivia nodded. She followed Hermione as Hermione made her way to the Magical Plants and Herbs section, walking past the Potions, History, and Magical Creatures section.

"How are Robby and Aiden?" Hermione asked as she rounded a bookcase and into the centre of the Magical Plants and Herbs section. She eyed the labels, looking for the right shelf for her books.

"Good," Olivia said. "They're having a lot of fun in the nursery when I last checked… oh, ten minutes ago. I think they're having story time with Stacey in another five minutes."

"Great," Hermione said. She grabbed _The Thyme Continuum_ and slipped it back into the empty place on the shelf where it was supposed to be. "Aiden always liked it when I read to him."

Olivia took _History of the Use of Herbs in Potions_ off of Hermione's arms and walked further down the aisle. "Robby, too. Robert used to read to him when he was only an infant. I used to tease him for that. As if a three month old could understand Faust."

Hermione stared at Olivia dumbly. "Your husband read Faust to Robby?"

Olivia rolled her eyes. "That was Robert for you." She smiled somberly. "That was my Robert."

Hermione walked over to Olivia and squeezed her shoulder gently. "There's still some more books to reshelf. You want to help?"

Olivia cleared her throat. "Yeah, sure."

"Great," Hermione said, smiling.

The two walked to the back of the library. All the unsorted books were put into a small, dusty, dimly lit room behind the little perused _Immigration in Wizarding History_ section. The only things that were jammed into the tiny room were a small, rectangular table, a few chairs, and a narrow pushcart used to move books around the library. Hermione groaned slightly when she saw the table and the pile of books stacked haphazardly atop it and on top of some of the chairs around the table. "Seriously, if people could just put the books back themselves…"

"We'd have more of a mess." Olivia started sifting through the books and placing some on the cart. "Trust me. Before the library changed the policy to 'just leave it on the table' it was even worse. You'd find books on centaurs in the Magical Plants section."

"I guess that'd be annoying," Hermione admitted. "But still…"

"Yeah," Olivia agreed. "What can you do?"

"Not much, I guess." Hermione brushed the cover of an especially dusty book. "_Hogwarts: a History_!" She peered closer. "Oh Merlin! The _second_ edition! This must be old."

Olivia grinned. "An upside of sorting through books is that occasionally, you find gems like that."

"Guess so." Hermione flipped through the old pages.

As Hermione leafed through the book, inspecting the differences, Olivia continued to stack the books. A few minutes passed, a soft silence drifting in the air. Olivia cleared her throat. "So," Olivia said deliberately.

Hermione raised her gaze up to focus on Olivia across the table. "So?" she repeated.

"I noticed the letter you received this morning."

"Oh." Hermione lowered her eyes back down the book.

"What are you going to do about it?"

Hermione mumbled something incoherently under her breath. Olivia raised an eyebrow. "I didn't quite catch that, sorry."

"I don't know," Hermione said. She slammed _Hogwarts: a History_, third ed. shut. "I don't know, and I don't really want to talk about it."

"That's the fourth letter he's sent to you this week," Olivia said quietly. "Don't you think you need to give him _some_ sort of reply?"

"What kind of reply could I possibly give him? I don't even know how I feel about him anymore. He wants to see me, but I don't know if I want to see him. I don't know if I want to see him ever again."

"Do you really mean that?" Olivia asked. When Hermione didn't reply for a while, Olivia continued. "I don't think you do."

"I don't know." Hermione was frustrated. "If you were right, then what? What happens if I see him again?"

Olivia shrugged. "Anything could happen. Nobody knows."

"Exactly! I have absolutely no idea what would happen. I just can't…"

"Is that what scares you?" Olivia crossed her arms. "That you don't know what will happen? That you'll have to be open and unsure?"

"That's part of it," Hermione said uncertainly.

"Then what's the other part?"

"I don't know…"

Olivia shook her head. "Then go find out. You owe yourself that much. You owe Draco that much."

Hermione looked down at the book resting at her hands. Did she?

- - -

Draco sat at his writing table, his head sunk between his hands. Pieces of parchment lay strewn all across the table. Some of the pieces of parchment were clean and fresh, but most of them had been written on and crumpled up into a messy ball. He had written so many letters to Hermione since the moment she'd left, each one begging for forgiveness and for her to give him one more chance.

One more chance. It seemed as if Draco were always asking for just one more chance.

She hadn't replied to any of his overtures. He was starting to lose hope, and all the effort had put a serious strain on him. Draco had not attended to affairs regarding the Malfoy estate in over a week, and the letters regarding that were starting to pile up. Several of his lawyers had stopped by, seeking an audience, but Draco had one of his house elves tell them that he wasn't feeling well. That was partially true, anyway.

There was a knock at his door.

"Who is it?"

"Milly, sir."

"Come in."

The door swung open, and the little house elf toddled in, bearing a silver tray, laden with a cup of tea and some biscuits. "Time for tea, sir," Milly said jovially. "Young master's mother had Milly brings young master this chocolate covered biscuits. Mistress says young master likes this chocolate biscuits very much. Mistress is very worried about young master, sir."

Draco looked at the plate of chocolate biscuits and picked one up. He smiled a little. He remembered how, as a child, his mother would always sneak him a few extra chocolate biscuits during tea time with a cagey smile on her face. It was a special treat and had always been something of a secret between the two of them.

Milly was still standing around, looking at him almost expectantly. "Yes?" Draco asked.

"Well, sir," Milly said, "there's been someones prowling around the property, sir. Milly and Hetty has seen somethings…"

_Tap tap tap._

Draco turned to the window and quickly shifted his attention from the house elf to the owl hovering outside the window. He could see it carrying a small roll of parchment.

"All right, Milly," Draco said almost absently. "Thank you for telling me. I'll look into it later. You're dismissed."

Milly bobbed her head down and darted out of the room, leaving the tray behind.

Draco walked to the window and opened it, allowing the owl to enter. The owl fluttered through the window and landed gently on Draco's writing table, amidst the pieces of crumpled parchment. It hooted gently and held out its leg for Draco to remove the roll tied to it.

Carefully, Draco removed the roll of parchment. He gave the owl the remaining part of his chocolate biscuit, which it ate gratefully. It hopped toward the window, spread its wings, and flew out. Draco watched it go. Whoever wrote to him did not want a response.

He sat down in his chair and unrolled the small piece of parchment. Draco's eyes skimmed over the letter. The note was short. It wasn't addressed, nor was it signed, but Draco knew exactly who it was from.

_Two o'clock at Landy's Tea Place._

- - -

"Bye, Olivia."

"Good luck." The other brunette smiled at Hermione. "I'll look after Aiden until you get back."

Hermione reached out and held Olivia's arm. "Thank you so much – for everything."

Olivia smiled back and pulled Hermione into a hug. "Thank you, too." She stepped back and looked Hermione in the eyes. "It's been a long time since I've felt so alive. Ever since Robert died, a little part of me sort of…" Olivia stopped short. "Go. You wouldn't want to be late."

Hermione nodded her head. She turned and walked down the street, away from the library. To what? She couldn't say.

Hermione was still unsure of her decision. Was this the right thing to do? Her mind had wrestled with that question all night, but she had told Draco she would meet with him, and she couldn't back down on that now. And part of her heart yearned to see him, even if she still wasn't sure if she could forgive what he did.

Maybe Olivia was right. Maybe she had to allow Draco to try and explain. But she'd gone over it so many times in her head. What explanation could he possibly have that made what he did right? Nothing. There was nothing.

Still, Olivia had been persistent. Something told Hermione that Olivia's feelings were biased due to the fact that Draco had once saved her and Robby's life. Olivia had insisted that that wasn't the only reason, but Hermione wasn't so sure. As far as Hermione could see, there was no other reason to side with Draco.

She turned the corner and was nearing the place where she was supposed to meet Draco. Nerves were starting to settle in, and her footsteps slowed. When Hermione stopped walking, she heard the quick stutter of footfall behind her. She felt a tingle raise the hairs on the back of her neck.

_I'm just nervous_, Hermione reasoned. _It's probably nothing_.

Hermione started walking again, listening for anything behind her. Hearing nothing, she felt at ease and brushed off her concerns as simply nerves. She was about to cross the street when she was suddenly jerked off the walkway and into a dark alley.

Before she could scream, everything went black.

- - -

Draco stared at the clock on the wall. He had arrived on time – for once, and to his surprise, Hermione had not been there. He managed to shake off the shock and asked for a table for two, and sat down, expecting Hermione to show up at any minute. Maybe, he postulated, the clock in the restaurant was a few minutes fast. But it was now twenty minutes past two. Hermione was never late – ever. He stirred his tea as he contemplated what to do and what this delay meant. Although he knew, he didn't want to face the reality of what it meant. Somewhere in his stomach, he felt something clench and twist.

So Draco waited five minutes more for good measure. Twenty-five past two.

He was then forced to arrive at the only plausible conclusion.

She wasn't coming.

Gathering his things, Draco threw some money onto the table and swept out of the tea shop, never once turning back.

- - -

Two days later, Wednesday came. Draco had never been a fan of Wednesdays before, but he hated it even more now. The last thing Draco wanted to do was to deal with the mundane details of business and estates. Not now, when his mind was wandering to other things every ten seconds. He was tortured by his pain and guilt, and he was plagued with questions about why Hermione hadn't come.

Draco was making his way down Diagon Alley, having left one meeting and on his way to another. He forced himself to focus on the details of his meeting prior, thinking of legal details and profit margins and rates of return. For the time being, it was working. Throwing himself into this seemed to distract him sufficiently, and at the same time, it brought him a small sense of accomplishment. _Maybe I should get a job_, he mused.

"Draco Malfoy?"

The sound of his name was so foreign, he almost didn't recognize it. Draco certainly hadn't expected anyone to shout out his name in the middle of Diagon Alley. He stopped in his tracks, in confusion. Draco careened his head around, trying to find the source of the voice. Standing in the middle of one of the busiest roads in Diagon Alley, he was surrounded by a sea of faces, none of which he recognized. Draco turned around once, his eyes searching for the owner of the voice.

A petite girl with shoulder length brown hair standing by the corner was looking at him intently. "Draco Malfoy?" she repeated.

"Who are you?" he asked, point blank.

"Olivia Pinkerton. I don't know if Hermione ever mentioned me but…"

Draco cut her off. "Yes, she did," he said, a bit curtly. "What do you need?"

She took two steps closer to him. "I was wondering if… Did Hermione go back to your place after you two met for tea? Is she staying with you? I've tried owling her, but every time, my owl just returns with the letter I wrote."

He stared. "What?"

"A couple nights ago, she mentioned she would be meeting up with you. When she didn't come home that night, I assumed she stayed with you. But now two days have passed, and I haven't heard from her, especially since she left Aiden behind… That isn't like Hermione."

"She never came." Draco swallowed hard. _This couldn't be good_.

Olivia blinked. "Oh… Oh no…" She bit her lip. "Do you know where she could be?"

"Have you asked W… Weasley?" Draco managed to get the words out, no matter how painful it was. The very thought of Hermione returning to _him_ hurt.

Olivia shook her head. "No. There was no way she would go back to Ron. She's not there."

"Have you checked with her parents? Or Potter?"

"Her parents are out of town, vacationing in Bermuda," Olivia said. "I hadn't thought to check with Harry Potter or Ginny. I don't know them or even how to contact them. I only found you by sheer luck. I've been standing on this street for hours, hoping you'd pass by. Hermione mentioned that on Wednesdays you'd go to Diagon Alley, so I was hoping to catch you here." Olivia opened her hands with a flourish. "And here you are."

Draco smiled wryly. "I know where Potter works," he said. "We should go ask."

Olivia nodded. "Let's go, then."

- - -

Harry stared angrily at the offending objects in front of him.

Silver ribbon or gold gilding?

When Harry asked Ginny to marry him, he had anticipated a life full of love and happiness. What he hadn't anticipated were these dull and stupid details and all the hoops he'd have to jump through before he finally could start to enjoy that happily every after. Ginny was always pushing wedding invitations at him or showing him swatches or asking him to taste some sort of pastry. All these wedding preparations were starting to make him hate marriage.

He shoved the nameplates to the side. He'd deal with that later. For now, he needed to work on something easier. Harry cringed slightly as he imagined Ginny yelling at him for not caring about their wedding or some other nonsense. With the wedding so close, Ginny was under a lot of stress, especially since… Harry grabbed his quill and pulled out some paperwork and refocused his attention on something he could actually understand. Harry frowned at the parchment in front of him. He tapped his quill against his face, thinking. _This doesn't make sense,_ he thought. _If the allegations only were_…

"Harry?"

He blinked slowly and pulled his eyes away from the document in front of him. "Yes?" he asked, peering at his secretary, standing in the doorway.

"There are two people here looking for you," Susan explained. She wrung her hands nervously – something Harry noticed immediately.

"I'm not expecting anyone," he commented. He sat up and leaned back in his chair. "Who are they?"

"One of them is Draco Malfoy."

Harry raised an eyebrow. What was Malfoy doing here – today? He checked his calendar. No. It wasn't time for Malfoy's parole check-in… "And the other?"

"An Olivia Pinkerton. Do you know her?"

"No." Harry rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I don't."

Susan leaned back on her heels. "What would you like me to do?"

"Send them in," he said.

Susan nodded and scurried to the waiting room.

Harry sat there for a few minutes, the document he had been previously puzzling over, forgotten. There, in the silence, he stared out in dumb wonderment. What in Merlin's name was Malfoy doing here on a _Wednesday_? And who was this Olivia that was with him? _Olivia Pinkerton_… Harry racked his mind, filing through all the names he'd encountered through his travels and his work. The name was familiar somehow…

His wondering was cut short by Malfoy's entrance. Malfoy stormed through the doorframe followed closely by a petite brunette. Her eyes widened briefly as they rested on Harry, but she quickly regained her composure. Harry stood up.

"Malfoy, what's the meaning of this?"

"Hermione," Malfoy said bluntly. "Is she with you?"

"Is this some kind of a joke?" Harry practically spat out. "Trying to rub it in my face or something? It isn't funny, Malfoy. Now if you'll please get the hell out –"

"It isn't," the girl said, cutting in. Harry's eyes darted from Malfoy to her. She took a step back and her face flushed slightly. "A joke, I mean. Sorry," she said hurriedly. "I'm Olivia Pinkerton. I was Hermione's friend… we met at the library."

The library. "Of course," Harry said.

"Hermione was staying with me when… well…" Olivia looked nervously at Harry then Malfoy.

"I see," Harry said quickly, trying to spare Olivia the unpleasant task of saying aloud the difficulties Hermione had been going through lately with all of them. "Go on."

"A couple of days ago, Hermione said she was going to meet with Draco for tea. When she didn't come home that night, I just assumed that she went home that night with him. But when I hadn't heard from her, I started to worry. It's not like Hermione to do that, not when she leaves Aiden behind. So I managed to find Draco, and when he said he hadn't heard from her either…" Olivia's voice drifted off. Her green eyes were wide with anxiety.

"She's not with you," Harry said slowly. "Then where is she?"

* * *

**AN:** LE GASP!!!

What will happen next? Stay tuned...


	27. The Final Threshold

**AN: **Here it is, the next chapter! Whew. Good times. I was determined to have this finished, edited, and ready to go in a week, and here it is! Hopefully, I can do the same with the next chapter, but with a slew of papers, midterms, and tests coming up, that may make the difficulty of that go up a bit.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Keeps me going, really.

Enjoy.  
**  


* * *

**

**Stand and Watch It Burn**

**XVII. The Final Threshold**

Draco sat, tapping his foot impatiently. When he had come to Potter for help, this was hardly what he had envisioned.

Potter had been more receptive than Draco had thought he might be. Although Draco knew he had little where else to turn, Draco had been slightly afraid that Potter would think that he was lying, since that's all Harry ever though of anything that came out of Draco's mouth. So when Potter had quickly believed him, Draco had almost thought it too good to be true. But he was glad because he knew he needed Harry's help.

However, Draco was none too pleased to be thrown out of Harry's office and forced to sit in the waiting area.

He and Olivia sat in the lounge on what Draco thought to be uncomfortable wooden chairs. He shifted restlessly, continually glancing up at the clock hanging above the secretary's desk. What the hell was Potter doing? Although Draco knew Harry cared for Hermione deeply, as he did, and that Harry wouldn't do anything to risk Hermione's safety, Draco did not like being left out of the loop. He wanted to know what was going on in Potter's office right now.

_Potter's probably called in a couple of his lackeys to argue about whether or not I'm lying_. Draco crossed his arms. But he knew… he _knew_ that Harry knew he wasn't lying.

As Draco continued to fidget, he noticed Olivia sitting quietly next to him, perusing an issue of _Witches' Weekly_. Draco watched her, seemingly calm and sitting still. But Draco noticed as her hands reached to flip the page of the magazine, the thin leaf trembled slightly under the touch of her shaking hand. She was unnerved. Hermione had often talked about this girl, and Draco knew they were close. As Draco continued to observe the girl, something went off in his brain. Her face was so familiar, like he'd seen her somewhere before. A ghost of a face from somewhere in a dream, or a lifetime before. Rather abruptly, Draco broke the silence. "I _know_ you."

"Yeah," Olivia said softly, not looking up. "You do."

Draco continued staring, trying to put the pieces together in his head. "Your face was so familiar, I thought I recognized it. But where do I…?"

"You saved me once," Olivia said. She finally looked up and met Draco's inquisitive gaze. "A long time ago, during the war. You saved me and my little boy."

"Olivia," Draco said slowly, pulling at things from the recesses of his memory. _A dark night. A break in. And a shattered family. _"Olivia… Pinkerton! You were attacked by Death Eaters and your husband…" His voice drifted off, and he pressed his lips into a firm line. Draco's eyes turned away from Olivia's. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right." Olivia folded her hands. "I've had three years to heal."

Draco closed his eyes, knowing full well three years was hardly enough for a wound like that to heal. No amount of time would ever be enough.

"Mr. Malfoy? Ms. Pinkerton?" Harry's secretary was standing in front of them. "Harry wants to see you two in his office now."

Wordlessly, Draco got up and stormed past the secretary. From behind him, Draco heard a very polite 'thank you' and the scurry of footsteps, walking quickly to catch up with him. The door to Harry's office was slightly ajar when he and Olivia reached it. Without hesitation, Draco shoved the door open and barged in.

Harry was sitting at his desk, a troubled expression hanging on his face. Sitting across from him was Kingsley Shacklebolt, one of Harry's most trusted advisors.

"Malfoy. Olivia." Harry waved his wand and two chairs – ones Draco abhorred every time he entered Harry's office – pulled up around his desk. "Sit."

Following his orders, Draco and Olivia took a chair each and sat. Harry sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "Okay. So tell me everything with complete and utter detail. Leave out _nothing_." Harry's facial expression was stern. "And I mean _nothing_. Ron's not here, so you don't need to worry about any hurt feelings. The more we know, the better Kingsley and I will be able to figure out what's going on."

"Excuse me," Olivia said, cutting in. "But what _is_ going on?"

The three men all looked at each other, exchanging glances. "We think Hermione's been kidnapped," Kingsley said.

Olivia blinked a couple times. Apparently she was the only one who hadn't realized that this was the only remaining possibility. "Oh. Oh no." Olivia shook her head. "Oh, Merlin. You don't think there's any other…"

"No." Harry sighed.

Olivia looked down. "I was afraid of that," Olivia said quietly. "I mean, I knew it was a possibility, but I didn't think…"

"Where is Weasley?" Draco asked suddenly.

"Home, sick." Harry said automatically. His quick and defensive response made it apparent that the reason Weasley was out was anything but sickness – not the physical sort, at least. "He's been out for the last week."

"Have you asked _him_ where Hermione is?" The question was full of contempt, no matter how hard Draco tried to hold it back.

Harry shot Draco a warning glare. "You know as well as I do Ron wouldn't hurt Hermione." Draco was about to say something when Harry continued, his voice a little lower. "I've already asked him. He's at home. Alone."

Draco nodded. Harry was right; Draco knew Weasley, as loathsome as Draco found him, wouldn't do something so repugnant as abduct his wife.

"Okay then," Harry said, gesturing at Draco and Olivia. "Tell me everything you know."

Olivia breathed in audibly and then glanced over at Draco. "Where should we start?"

"The beginning, I suppose."

- - -

Harry listened with rapt attention, his expression unchanging as Olivia started to tell her story – of how she had met Hermione months ago between the dusty shelves of the library and their quest to learn what had happened to Hermione three years ago. Much of Olivia's part Draco had heard from Hermione, but there were some details that he had not known. His heart tightened as he heard all that Hermione had suffered through… and then the truth he had hidden from her.

It would hurt to tell his part, he knew. To face the blazing, painful reality that his careless, selfish actions three years ago still haunted him to this day, and to know that he hadn't learned from his past. He had lost Hermione three years ago, and he lost her again, for the same reasons. He hadn't learned, had he? Draco sat there thinking, Olivia's voice fading into the background. Was this it? Would his life never be more than the person he was three years ago? Was he doomed to be that person - that _fool – _he had been three years ago? Draco looked at Harry. Yes. Harry would always see him as that thoughtless, stupid schoolboy who ridiculed him at Hogwarts. As the coward who turned at the slightest test. That's all they would ever see him as.

"Malfoy?"

"What?" he asked, reflexively.

Harry's green eyes bore into him as the attention in the room was shifted to Draco. "It's your turn."

Draco blinked. "There isn't really much to tell. I never thought there was anything out of the ordinary. Hermione stayed home, mostly, when I went out to do business. We'd have dinner together. Then… well… we had that falling out, and I haven't seen her since."

Harry tapped the quill on his desk against the piece of parchment stretched out across his desk, apparently deep in thought. Kingsley put his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. "Did you notice… an unusual presence?"

"Where?"

Kingsley shrugged with an air of calculated carelessness. "Around. Perhaps near Malfoy Manor, or while you were walking from place to place."

Draco thought. "There was a time I thought there was… but it could have just been a lost owl. Though, my elf mentioned earlier that she thought she'd seen something around the property. I doubt there was anything to it."

Kingsley looked over his shoulder at Harry, who was looking just as intently back. The look was quick and brief, but Draco caught it. "What is it?"

Harry sighed. "Malfoy… we probably should have told you this earlier…"

Draco was sitting up straight now. "Told me what?"

"We had a break out in Azkaban," Harry said slowly, "a few weeks ago. One prisoner got away."

Draco could feel the blood draining from his face. "Merlin… Don't tell me…"

"It was your father."

Draco slumped back against his chair. He couldn't believe this. His father was out, free, roaming the streets somewhere…

Next to him, Olivia gasped. "Lucius Malfoy? He's out?"

Kingsley nodded. "You can see why we did not let this news leak. The effect it might have on the public – it would have been traumatizing and caused so much fear…"

Olivia was confused, still. "But what does he want with _Hermione_?"

"Revenge," Draco said quietly. "My father was angry. Especially regarding some of the things I'd done. He knew it'd be the one way to hurt me."

"So did Lucius take Hermione?"

Kingsley tapped his fingers on his arm. "It's a possibility. A very real possibility."

Harry nodded. "That's clear now. At the time when we heard of Lucius's breakout, we were unsure of what he might do, so we tried to keep it rather quiet…"

"But you didn't see fit to tell _me_?" Draco seethed.

"We didn't know, Malfoy, what it meant…" Harry started.

"But you had an idea!" Draco was now out of his seat and glowering at Harry. "How could you, Potter? This is stupid and reckless, even for you!"

Harry rose up out of his chair too. "Everything I've done, everything I _do_, Malfoy, is to protect this community and the people I _love_. Everything I have ever done is what I believed to be the best for everyone involved. Can you say the same, Malfoy?"

"Tell me the truth, Potter," Draco shouted. "Why didn't you tell me about my father?"

"You heard me! We weren't sure what he'd do…"

"No." Draco's face twisted into an ugly smirk. "You weren't sure what _I'd_ do. You don't trust me."

Harry's face hardened. "And why should I?"

Draco laughed darkly. "So that's it, then, Potter. You go through the motions, you play the hero, and you put up this façade. But in the end, _you just don't trust me._"

"You had my trust once, and you lost it. Why _would_ I trust you?"

"Very good, Potter, you admit the truth." Draco leaned in, his face dangerously close to Harry's. "You didn't trust me, so you didn't tell me that my father was running around, ready to ruin the peace we'd fought so hard to keep. Because you didn't trust me. Because you thought I might turn. Because you thought I might go find my father and Merlin knows what…"

"You've given me no reason – no reason at all, Malfoy – to trust you. Ever. Again." Harry was incensed with anger. "After what you did three years ago –"

"And now, you've put Hermione in danger because of it. She might be dead, Potter. Dead!"

A heavy silence filled the room as Draco's words weighed down on each of them. Hermione's life was still in danger, and they all knew it. And each precious second they argued, they were wasting.

Draco stepped back, his eyes still not leaving Harry's. "I was foolish to come. This was a waste of time."

Without waiting for a response, Draco turned around and left. He didn't stop or look back.

- - -

The door slammed shut, and Harry just stared at where Draco was once standing.

"Well done, Harry." Kingsley crossed his arms. "You just chased away the one good lead we had on Lucius Malfoy. Now how the hell are we supposed to find him or Hermione?"

Harry slumped back down into his chair. He dropped his face into his hands and sighed. "I'm sorry. I don't know. I don't know what got into me."

Kingsley rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on Potter, you know what it was. Malfoy gets under your skin. I get it." Kingsley stood up and started walking towards the door. "Look, I'll follow what we do have, and try to think up of something. That's all we can do in the meantime. I suspect we'll hear something from one of the Malfoys sooner or later… hopefully sooner."

"I'll help – "

Kingsley snorted. "Pull yourself together, first. I know she's your friend," he added in a kinder tone. "You can't help her in this state. You won't be able to think rationally. Take a break and sort things out and when you've got a calm head come back and we'll figure it out. Don't _worry_," Kingsley said when Harry began to object. "You may be the Head of the department, but I'm still the best when it comes to tracking. I'll be working as best as I can, Harry. I promise."

Harry nodded. "Thank you, Kingsley."

The door slammed shut again, as Kingsley closed it behind him. Harry hit his forehead with his fist a couple times. What was he going to do?

"Need help with that?"

Harry almost jumped out of his chair. "Oh, Olivia," he exclaimed. "I almost forgot you were here."

Olivia smiled wryly. "Yes, you were rather wrapped up in your argument."

"Yeah." Harry's gaze drifted once again to where Draco had been standing. "I don't know what it is about Malfoy… he just always…"

"You really don't?" Olivia asked. "Or do you just not want to admit that you know?"

Harry stared at the girl in front of him. "I don't follow."

"Just think about it," replied Olivia. "Three years ago, it was you, Ron, and Hermione. Just the three of you. Best friends. I remember in Hogwarts. I was a couple years ahead of you, but I still remember. Everyone talked about all three of you. You were like an item. Where one of you went, the other two were sure to follow. But then, Draco Malfoy enters your life and breaks that up – in more ways than one. You resent him for it. You resent him for taking away one of your best friends and for taking away Hermione from Ron."

"That's not tr – "

"Why else would you act like this? You forgave him once, three years ago."

Harry shook his head. "You have _no idea_ what he put Hermione, Ron, everyone through. No idea."

"And you have no idea what _he's_ been through."

Harry opened his mouth, but no words came out. No. He was right. Olivia had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. All the pain Hermione had endured, and the heartbreak Ron had suffered. That was all because of Malfoy. Malfoy hadn't changed. He could never change. "How could you trust him?" Harry spat out. "You were at Hogwarts with us. You knew what he was like."

Olivia looked at Harry with a steady, firm gaze. "He saved my life, as I'm sure he has saved yours many times. How quickly you forget, Harry, when it's convenient for you. But I haven't forgotten. I never will forget, because I owe him Robby's life and mine. He didn't have to save me, but he did. He risked his life for mine."

Slowly, she got up and started walking out the door. "I have to pick up the children. I'll call if I hear anything else. Do tell me if you learn anything new?"

Harry nodded the affirmative.

Olivia smiled. "Thanks. And Harry?"

"Yes?"

"People can change. We all do. Every day."

x x x

Remus Lupin was sitting in his office at home and preparing for the new term. Fall was approaching, and Hogwarts would be starting again. Every year, around this time, the air was filled with anticipation. Remus did so look forward to the new school year. It reminded him of his childhood and better times. He glanced over at a picture propped up in a glass frame on his mahogany desk. Four young, excited faces beamed at him and waved excitedly.

He smiled bitterly. So much had changed in the last twenty odd years. First James, then Sirius, then Peter… but Peter had been lost long before his death.

Still, Remus kept that old picture of the four of them together up on his desk, alongside other of his favourites – one of him and Tonks, laughing on the beach, a candid of Harry and Ginny, walking down the street hand in hand, a family portrait of the Weasleys – all of them. It reminded of him what was. And it reminded him of the terrible things that could always be.

Remus heard the jingling announcing the arrival of a guest. Remus frowned slightly, wondering who could be visiting in the middle of the day. He glanced over at his calendar, open to that month. He didn't see any meetings scheduled.

Walking through the halls and rooms of his flat, Remus made his way to the door. He glanced at the glass on the wall by the door and raised his eyebrows when he saw who was standing outside his door.

Remus opened the door.

"Harry, what a surprise," Remus said.

Harry, however, looked distressed and did not respond immediately. Remus started to feel concerned. It wasn't often Harry left work in the middle of the day.

"Can I come in?" Harry asked.

"Of course." Remus moved aside to allow Harry to walk in. Something was wrong. Remus could see it not only in Harry's face which was positively grey but also in the tension in his shoulders. James used to do the exact same thing.

Remus followed Harry into the sitting room. "Tea?" Remus asked.

Harry was standing in the middle of the room, one of his hands in a fist near his mouth, and the other cradling the elbow. His eyes were glazed and staring at something on the floor. At Remus's question, Harry jerked his head up. "What?"

There was a pause. "Harry, what's wrong?"

"Hermione's missing," Harry blurted out.

"What?" Remus stared at him in shock. "How?"

"It's been two days and no one's heard from her. I don't know what to do. I knew… I _knew_ we shouldn't have done that. God, what the hell were we thinking? This is all my fault. I'm such a bloody idiot! And now Hermione's gone and been kidnapped by Lucius Malfoy and now I don't even know where to start looking for him since I brilliantly decided not to tell anyone – not even _Ron_ – about it. What was I thinking? And now I can't…"

"_Harry._" Remus put a hand on his shoulder. "Slow down. You're rambling and make no sense whatsoever."

Collapsing onto the couch, Harry groaned. "Merlin, what have I done?"

Remus sat down beside him. "What happened?"

"Do you remember three years ago – what happened to Hermione?"

He nodded. "Of course."

"We all thought – Ginny, Ron, and me – we thought it was for the best. We thought this way, we'd be protecting her, that it'd hurt less for her. We – well, I did, anyway – knew that one day it could all blow up in our faces. For a while, I was wary. But over the last three years, I let my guard down."

Remus sat, nonplussed. "I don't under – "

"We lied." Harry turned to look at Remus. "Malfoy didn't Obliviate Hermione's memory. Ron did."

Silence.

Remus stared at Harry, unsure of what to say. Finally, he managed to utter a single, "Oh."

"Not that Malfoy didn't try," Harry said with a rush and a bit defensively. "None of us knew until that second time Hermione was in the hospital. And she was in so much pain, Remus. You saw it too."

He had. Remus remembered the sorrowful look in Hermione's eyes every time he visited her. He sighed. "So I'm guessing this is the real reason Hermione and Ron are split up right now."

Harry nodded slightly. "We… We didn't think it wise to tell anyone – Ginny, Ron, and me. Well, mostly Ginny and me. Not really sure if Ron's been thinking much of anything lately. Especially since, well…" Harry sighed. "Hermione left him for Malfoy."

"I see."

Remus didn't say anything for a while. He was struggling to process all the information Harry had just unloaded on him. Wrapped up in his thoughts, he failed to notice the increasingly worried look on Harry's face.

"Remus, I don't know what to do." Harry groaned and ran his hand through his hair. "I don't even know how to start looking for Malfoy – er, Lucius, that is."

"Have you tried asking Draco?"

Harry snorted. "Good lot that did."

"Harry…"

"Never mind, Remus."

Remus sighed. "Have you told Ron yet?"

Harry shook his head.

"Well, I would recommend starting there." Remus stood up and started pacing. His mind was working quickly. "I'll talk to some old contacts from the war… see if they've heard anything. I'll talk to Kingsley and see what information he has, and between the two of us, I'm sure we'll be able to find something."

Harry nodded, though his face was still ashen. He stood up to go, but his steps faltered. Remus reached out to Harry and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Time is of the essence. Go talk to Ron," Remus urged. "It'll be fine, Harry."

"What if we can't find Hermione?"

"We will. We have to."

x x x

Draco could still hear the blood pounding in his ears when he Apparated to Malfoy Manor. His mind was racing around in circles, unsure of what thought to rest or dwell on. Every time it settled on one, Draco would immediately think of another.

It was too much. First, that Hermione was missing. That she might be out there, in pain or maybe worse, d – no. He wouldn't… _couldn't_ think that. He would know if something went wrong. He'd be able to feel it. The air would be different. It wouldn't be so easy to breathe. Hermione had to be all right.

Potter. He'd think about _that_. The bastard still didn't trust him. Of course, Draco could hardly expect differently. He felt his lips curl up into a sneer. Potter, blinded by loyalty and devotion to Weasley, had taken his friend's side three years ago. He'd assumed the worst of Draco three years ago, when it was convenient. Why should it surprise Draco now that Potter was doing the same? Potter had made it clear on the first day of his parole that they were not friends. Draco had gotten over that then. He didn't need Potter's friendship.

This was all Potter's fault, Draco concluded. If Potter had kept Draco in the loop, if he had warned Draco about Lucius, things would have been different. Draco would have acted differently. He would have made sure Hermione was safe. This was Potter's fault – wasn't it?

"Hetty!"

Draco pushed aside the big front door and walked across the lobby, his footsteps echoing as he stepped on the hard marble floor. He shrugged off his robe and slung it over his arm. Where was that elf?

"Hetty! Milly?"

Draco stopped and waited for that loud cracking noise that signified one of his elves appearing. But he heard nothing.

"Mother?"

Nothing.

Draco felt his stomach clench when he saw a light trail of dirt on the normally spotless staircase. He walked up the winding staircase, his heart racing with each step.

Following the trail, Draco walked down the long hallway and towards the master bedroom. The door was slightly ajar. Draco grabbed the side of the door and pushed it open.

"Draco. You've decided to join us."

Draco's mouth felt dry. Somehow, he managed to force out one word. "Father."  


* * *

**  
AN: **Another cliffhanger! *ducks*Hehe.


	28. The Point of No Return

**AN**: Hey all! Sorry, it's been a while. I've been busy with school and finals, and I'll be working over the summer, so I don't know how quickly I can update this. However, I do have this chapter done, so I'm uploading it now. Thanks to everyone who's stuck with me so far.

And of course, a big thank you to everyone who's reviewed. You guys are super.

* * *

**Stand and Watch It Burn**

**XVIII. The Point of No Return**

Draco stared at the disheveled man standing before him. He'd never seen his father so… dirty. His father was certainly worse than when Draco had seen him three years ago in Azkaban. Or, perhaps, Draco had simply failed to see it in the poorly lit dungeons of the prison. Here, in the light, everything was obvious and painfully plain to see. Lucius's long blonde locks were braided with dirt and twigs. Lucius's face was gaunt, his cheekbones protruding rudely from his face, and mud caked his tattered robes everywhere. His skin, which was normally pale already, was practically translucent. His father looked but a ghost of his former self.

Tied and magically bound to two of his mother's favourite sitting chairs were his mother and Hermione. Draco stole a glance at Hermione, but when he saw her pleading brown eyes looking back helplessly at him, he quickly shifted his gaze towards his father. It was easier to stare down him instead.

Gathering himself, Draco straightened and stood up tall. "What are you doing here, Lucius?"

Lucius's smile was slightly demented. He walked around the two women strapped to chairs. "Can't a man go home to rest and recharge?"

"This is no longer your home," Draco said with certainty he did not feel. "Leave now."

"Ah." Lucius smirked. "But I am here, am I not, son?"

Draco clenched his fists. "What do you want?" he spat out.

"What I want." Lucius sighed. "Oh, Draco, always so curt. You never did fully learn the art of persuasion. Perhaps I can teach you sometime in the future. What say you, son?"

"Stop playing games. Tell me what you want, or get out of here."

Lucius raised the wand in his hand and pointed it straight at Hermione. "I wouldn't be making demands like that if I were you." He smiled treacherously at Draco. "You're in no position to be doing such things."

Draco felt his heart racing. A wand? Draco remembered that they had shattered Lucius's wand when they threw him into Azkaban, never to see the light of day again. "Where did you get that?"

Lucius walked around Hermione and slinked right up behind her. Leaning over her shoulder, he grabbed her face. Hermione cringed and whimpered slightly. Lucius gently patted her cheek. "Why, from your little _whore_ here."

"Don't you call her that."

Lucius rolled his eyes. "Now, Draco, I am not the first to call her that. Am I, Cissy?" Lucius's voice lifted with a mocking lilt. He leaned over towards his wife now, who was sitting still and staring straight forward. Narcissa's expression was stoic and unchanged. Her calm demeanor was betrayed only by the tension in her shoulders.

"Leave Mother alone."

Sighing audibly, Lucius crossed his arms. "Again, with the demands. Draco, really. Haven't you figured out who's got the upper hand here? Perhaps being around this Mudblood has addled your brains…"

Draco's jaw clenched. Lucius, noticing the change in his son, smiled a little wider. "It doesn't have to be this way, Draco." When Draco did not react, Lucius continued. "This whole new world Potter's brought about, this new… world order. It is not how things should be. For thousands of years, purebloods have reigned supreme over those of…" - Lucius prodded Hermione in the face with her wand - "inferior birth. We dominated them. We kept them… _under control_."

Lucius began walking around the room, his arms gesturing widely. "And then? And then! Fools like Albus Dumbledore tried to act as if somehow purebloods and halfbloods and even _Mudbloods_ and _Muggles_ could be equals. Equals! They of inferior birth! Hah! Only because they knew they could never be as good as we, no matter how hard they tried. No matter what they did they couldn't change their birth. So they changed the natural order of things. And the world, as we once knew it began to shift. It began to change, and not for the better."

This lecture was hardly foreign to Draco's ears. He'd heard Lucius say something of this nature many times before. But it was completely new for Hermione, and Draco could see her eyes shining with indignation as she listened to what Lucius had to say.

"You remember, Draco," Lucius added. "How many times have I told you this before?"

"Nearly every day," Draco said quietly.

Lucius nodded. "And you were a very good student, son. And what, Draco, is our purpose in this war against the dissenters?"

"To reaffirm the superiority of purity." The words left Draco's mouth before he even had time to think of it. Hermione's eyes widened slightly in shock, as she looked at him in confusion. Draco berated himself mentally.

However, Draco's automatic response seemed to please Lucius. "Well done, Draco. You remember your lessons."

Draco gritted his teeth. "You're insane."

"All the Dark Lord wanted," Lucius said mournfully, ignoring Draco, "was to do just that. To _remind_ everyone what we once were and how great it once was. The natural order of things, Draco. We cannot help the fact that we are simply ultimately superior. But those cowards – those _fools_ – didn't understand…"

"You're wrong!" Hermione shouted out. "What You-Know-Who was doing was _mass murder_ not…"

"_Crucio_."

Hermione's screams pierced the air. Lucius was grinning maniacally now.

"Stop!" Draco finally was able uproot his feet. He tried to move toward Lucius to stop the curse.

"_Stupefy_."

x x x

"Remus?" Kingsley stared at his old friend who stood in the doorway of his small office. "What are you doing here? Are you here to see Tonks? She's actually out right now, but I'm sure if you wait a bit – "

"I'm here to see you." Remus entered and sat down on the chair across the desk from Kingsley's.

One look at Remus and Kingsley knew. "He told you."

"I talked to some of my contacts from the war about any Dark activity they might have seen in the last few weeks, since Lucius Malfoy's break out," Remus said. "One of my friends near Manchester says his Foeglass spotted a figure short of two weeks ago."

"Two weeks is a long time." Kingsley frowned.

"I'm not finished," Remus replied. "My friend in Manchester did some follow up investigation and managed to track the trajectory of the route being taken. It led towards London. There was a slight deviation near the end of the route, but my friend says with certainty that whoever that figure was ended up in the heart of wizarding London…"

"Diagon Alley," Kingsley said. He leaned back in his chair. "Where Hermione was last seen."

Remus sighed. "So I suppose now we're certain."

Kingsley rubbed his forehead. "As certain as we can be without further information. I did send a team to Diagon Alley to sweep for unusual activity. They should be back soon."

"Did you question Draco?"

Kingsley snorted. "We _tried_, I suppose."

"Tried?"

"Harry was asking questions and before you knew it he and Malfoy were having a fantastic row. Words flying left and right. Nonsense bein spouted. Don't even know what it was about anymore and who started it. But you know, those two…"

Remus shook his head. "Harry should know better."

Kingsley shrugged. "It happens. Don't know if I can blame Harry, after what Malfoy did, the lousy git."

Remus hesitated. "I doubt Draco had anything to do with Hermione's disappearance."

"Right," Kingsley snorted. "Because he'd _never_ hurt her."

Remus was about to respond when he was interrupted by a knock. Both men turned to see who was in the doorway. A young man of slight build and a head full of wavy brown hair and a thin girl with green eyes stood expectantly.

"Snow. Knightley." Kingsley gestured for them to enter. "What information do you have?"

Knightley stepped in. "It was a little hard to find anything since you didn't give us many specifics," he said. "But we managed to find signs of a struggle."

"It wasn't much," Snow added. "But we saw the traces of a Shield Charm in one of the alleyways near Landy's Tea Place. We questioned some of the people who work in the area and the authorities. No robbery or crime has been reported."

"We saw some footsteps and did some tracking. Whoever was there was headed northwest."

Kingsley nodded. "Thank you. You two are excused."

Knightley and Snow exchanged glances. Knowing better than to ask any more questions, both nodded and left.

The moment they were gone, Kingsley let out a loud groan. "We're such bloody morons. We should have bloody known!" he said.

"Northwest… Only one explanation," Remus said quietly. "Lucius Malfoy was headed to Malfoy Manor."

x x x

Draco was frozen, mid-stride, but in turning to Stupefy Draco, Lucius had been forced to lift the Crutacius Curse on Hermione. Hermione's screams had stopped, and now she was slumped down in her chair, her breathing ragged and uneven. Narcissa stared at the girl next to her, a horrified expression on her face.

"Draco, don't tell me you actually _care_ for the Mudblood."

Lucius walked over to where Draco was stopped and leaned right into Draco's unmoving face.

"After all she's done," Lucius said, his voice barely above a whisper, "after all the times she's betrayed you, you still care for her."

Draco glared at Lucius as he stepped back and began circling Hermione, who was still trying to recover. "Left you in Azkaban to die. Married another man and had his child. Never thinking about you once. And what now, Draco? She's left you, again. Left you waiting in that ridiculous tea shop for… how long was it?" Lucius turned to Hermione who was glaring at him. "A good part of an hour, if I remember correctly. Poor, poor Draco. Sitting there so pathetically, by himself, waiting for someone who would never come. What does she care for you?"

Hermione struggled against her magical bonds. "You don't know what –"

"_Silencio._"

Hermione's mouth moved wordlessly. Frustrated, she slammed her arms against the chair and struggled to break free. This only made Lucius more pleased and he laughed mirthlessly.

"Foolish Mudblood. This may not be my wand," he sneered, "but I am a Malfoy. Of noble and great birth. Something you could hardly understand, I'm sure. But even with a handicap, I can do things you only dream of."

Lucius turned to Draco once more. "See, Draco," he said quietly, "I am different. I have come back for you. The Dark Lord's noble cause lives on, son. And we can take up the mantle. Father and son. The honour and glory you've always yearned for."

x x x

"Harry, why didn't you tell me?"

Harry was, for what seemed like the tenth time that day, holding his head in his hands.

He was sitting in Ron's living room. Ron was pacing back and forth in front of him. It was late afternoon, but Ron was still in his pajamas. His hair was rumpled, as if he hadn't combed it in days. Ron's eyes were slightly bloodshot, probably from various rounds of drinking, staying up, and then sleeping into odd hours of the day.

"You should have told me earlier!" Ron was now pointing at him, jabbing wildly in the air towards Harry.

"I know that now," Harry said, looking up. "I wish I could go back and change things, but I can't."

"You knew Lucius Malfoy was dangerous, Harry! Why'd you and Kingsley keep it such a bloody secret?"

"Exactly because he _was_ dangerous. Look, Ron, if we'd told everyone, people would have panicked. It's only been three years. They weren't ready for news like that."

Ron stood, his arms crossed, and shook his head. "No. No, Harry. I can't believe this. You didn't even tell me."

"If I'd told you, Ron, what would you have done?"

Ron opened and shut his mouth a couple of times. "Well, I'd have… I'd have…"

"What?" demanded Harry.

"I'd… go ask bloody Malfoy what he and his rotten git of a father were planning! I'd force it out of that bastard, too!"

Harry sighed loudly. "See, Ron, that's exactly what would have happened and exactly what couldn't have. Do you know how much trouble we already are in? We can't keep arguing. Time's running out."

Ron sank down next to Harry. "Hermione's really missing."

Harry nodded.

"Merlin." Ron stared blankly forward. "Harry, what are we going to do?"

"Kingsley is following whatever we've got. It isn't much, but it's better than nothing. I suspect we won't need to wait long to hear anything else. I doubt Lucius Malfoy will wait long."

"Bloody Malfoy," Ron growled. "When I see that ferret, I'm going to wring his neck…"

"He's worried, too, Ron."

"Worried that we'll blow his cover."

Harry stared at Ron. "You think he's part of the plan?"

Ron stared back. "You don't?"

"He was extremely upset when he came to tell me Hermione was missing. And he had no clue his father had broken out of Azkaban…"

Ron laughed mirthlessly. "And you believed him?"

"I don't think he was pretending."

"Right. Like he wasn't pretending three years ago."

Harry slumped down on the coach. "Maybe he wasn't," he muttered under his breath.

Ron was about to retort when his fireplace blew up into flames. "What the…"

"Harry? Harry, are you there?"

Harry sat straight up and peered around the couch and into the fireplace. "Kingsley?" He darted up and towards the fireplace. "Is something wrong?"

"We have a lead. I tracked Lucius Malfoy's last whereabouts, and I think I know where he was headed. Based on the pace he was going, I'd say he's there now."

Ron was now standing behind Harry and looking over his shoulder. "Where?"

"Malfoy Manor."

Ron sent Harry a triumphant look. Harry chose not to respond. "All right, thank you Kingsley."

The fire died down, and Harry sighed. "We should have known," he said quietly. Before Ron could have a chance to gloat, Harry continued, "We won't be able to Apparate there. Too many charms protecting Malfoy Manor, and I don't think Draco's in any position right now to let us through. We'll have to fly."

x x x

Lucius raised his wand. "_Finite Incantum_."

Draco felt the magical hold on his limbs disappear. He stumbled forward, unstable on his previously frozen feet. Hermione, granted use of her voice again, immediately began rambling.

"You're _insane_, Lucius Malfoy!" Hermione spat out. "Draco, don't listen to him. You know it isn't true. I was coming." Tears were falling down Hermione's cheeks. "I was. You know I would have made it if I could have."

"They never saw you as anything but a Death Eater," Lucius said, raising his voice. "Three years ago, now – it's the same, isn't it? You can see it in Potter's eyes, every time he looks at you. The contempt. The hatred. And Weasley – well he's like the rest of them. They dangled the false hope of redemption in front of you only to lure you into the trap they laid for you. They don't trust you, do they Draco? They preach acceptance and _love_ when the truth is they only use it when it suits them – when it best benefits them. And when they no longer have use for you, they toss you aside like rubbish. And they crush you with the heel of their foot and let you rot in the dungeons of Azkaban."

The stinging truth of those words hit Draco, and it was apparent on his face. Lucius knew he hit a raw nerve in his son. Hermione, seeing the change in Draco's face, sat up straight to protest. "That's not tr – "

"So why bother? Always trying to prove to Potter and Weasley when they _hate_ your very name. When they can never see past what they choose to believe of you. Why pretend to be something they want you to be? It's not who you are. You were meant for greater things."

The finality with which Lucius uttered the last statement effectively silenced the room better than any charm could. Lucius seemed to revel in the attention, his posture exuding confidence and certainty.

- - -

"Draco, don't listen to him."

The words, spoken by Narcissa who had been silent throughout the ordeal, shocked everyone. Lucius was briefly caught off guard before quickly regaining his control of the situation.

"_Silencio_." Lucius frowned. "I'd have thought you'd know better, Narcissa."

Narcissa, though unable to speak, sent the coldest, most chilling glare at her husband. Ignoring her, Lucius looked again at Draco.

"It's time the write the ending to this chapter in your life, Draco, so you can start a new one."

Draco finally managed to find his voice. "What are you saying?"

Lucius leaned forward towards his son. "Finish this. End it here. Make me proud, son."

Hermione felt something catch in her throat. Lucius didn't mean what she thought he did… did he? Draco's eyes were troubled. "I don't… I don't understand."

"Oh, Draco, I think you do." Lucius strode over and stood between Narcissa and Hermione. He put his arm on Hermione's shoulder, and Hermione tried furiously to shrug it off. "Kill the filthy Mudblood."

Hermione froze, her eyes wide with shock and fear. "N-no…" She stammered. "No…"

"Yes, yes." Lucius laughed mockingly.

"Draco, please, you can't do this!"

Lucius sighed loudly and melodramatically. "Such a silly, brainless creature." He suddenly jerked out and grabbed Hermione's shoulder, and she yelped with surprise and pain. "One spell, Draco, and you can end this pathetic way you call a life and start a new reign and a new chapter in history."

"Don't listen to him, Draco," Hermione said. "He's lying to you! Draco, please, just look at me…"

"You know the words, Draco. Come now. Everything you've dreamed of your whole life waits behind that one spell. You can have everything you ever wanted."

"Draco, I love you." There was no hint of pleading in her voice – only quiet desperation.

Slowly and deliberately, Draco raised his wand. Hermione was terrified by what she saw in his eyes – coldness and utter emptiness.

"You're right, Father," Draco said. "I can have everything I ever wanted."

Hermione shut her eyes just as a bright flash of light filled the room.

* * *

**AN: **Dun dun dun!

Review please. :)


	29. Down Once More

**AN: **Finally. First, my computer crashed. Then, I had finals. Then, I had graduation.

I know it's not really an excuse, but hey, it's all I got. But anyway, after a long long wait, I finally got this chapter up! I hope you enjoy. There's probably one more chapter and maybe an epilogue after this... it's almost over, people!

* * *

**Stand and Watch It Burn**

**XXIX. Down Once More**

The moment Harry landed, he knew something was wrong. The massive iron wrought gate at the entrance was left open, swinging freely on one hinge, and the front door to the manor itself was left slightly ajar. He stood, surveying the scene in front of him when Ron landed awkwardly next to him.

"Rough flight," Ron mumbled, mostly to himself. "Didn't think it'd get so turbulent."

"The shields around Malfoy Manor have been breached," Harry said. He frowned as he continued to survey the area. "There's no way we could have entered so easily, or so close. I used a Shield Breaking Charm when we flew in, but I didn't think that one would be enough. Someone tampered with them."

Ron's eyes widened. "What… but I thought it was well-protected. Ancient charms and curses surrounding the whole place and whatnot."

"It is," Harry said. "But if someone knew how to get around them…"

"Lucius Malfoy."

Harry nodded. "Kingsley and backup will be here soon."

"I don't think we can wait, Harry. Hermione might be in there," Ron said urgently.

"I know," Harry said. He nodded towards the door. "Let's go."

Carefully, the two proceeded, walking carefully down the stone path and stopping on the grand front entrance. Harry cautiously pushed the door open. It swung open and hit the wall with a dull bang. Harry gestured with his head for Ron to go ahead.

Ron held his wand at the ready and walked carefully forward towards what seemed to be a corridor leading to the dining room. Harry followed suit, surveying the lobby and staircase instead. _Merlin, it's huge_. Harry always forgot how big Malfoy Manor was. And every time he recalled how large Malfoy Manor was, he always remembered how proportionately big Malfoy's ego was. His eyes swept around and finally caught sight of something resembling a trail. To the common eye, it just some dirt, perhaps tracked in by someone walking outside. But Harry knew better. "Ron," he whispered. Ron, swiftly and silently walked over. When he was standing right by Harry, Harry pointed towards the light dirt tracks on the stairs.

"Do you hear that?" Ron stood up straight.

Harry listened carefully, and it seemed as if there were voices coming from upstairs. "Yeah," Harry said slowly. "Come on. Let's check it out."

Carefully, slowly, tentatively, Harry took the first step up the staircase. His heart was pounding loudly in his ears. Years of training and all those missions on the field – nothing prepared him for this. There had been many times during the war when the life of a friend had been in danger. There had been many times when Hermione's life had been in danger. But that was before Hermione became a wife and mother. Now there was so much more on the line.

Harry could hear Ron's footsteps behind him. Together, they climbed up the staircase, a staircase that seemed to carry on forever. When Harry reached the top, he paused and looked down the long hallway. His instincts kicked in and slowly he moved towards the door at the end of the hallway. Wordlessly, Ron followed. They were halfway down the hallway when they heard a thud – the sound of something heavy falling. The floor under their feet shook.

Harry turned and stared at Ron whose eyes were just as wide. Hesitating a brief moment, Harry suddenly bolted down the rest of the hallway and towards the door at the end of it.

He kicked the door down.

Draco Malfoy was in the middle of the room, his back to the door. His mother was sitting in a chair with a tall back, sheathed in beige coloured brocade, to the right. And Hermione was in a matching chair directly to the left. She was literally drenched in blood.

Harry stared, unbelieving. He felt like his world suddenly slowed, screeching to a startling halt. It felt like a lifetime, but he was hardly there for a second when the trance was broken. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blur move right in front of him.

The next thing he knew, Ron had his arms around Malfoy in a death grip. He was roaring like a wounded animal, nonsensical and enraged. The two men struggled, Malfoy trying to get the taller man's arms off of him. Under normal circumstances, the match would have been much more equal, but the adrenaline rush from the pain and fury gave Ron a strength he normally would not have had, making Malfoy's attempts completely futile.

"Stop!"

Immediately, Ron's hold on Malfoy loosened, and Harry turned his gaze from Ron and Malfoy's tussle to the women seated in front of him, momentarily unsure of who spoke. He didn't want to hope. He saw Narcissa sitting with her back rigid, her eyes glaring at her son's assailant. But the voice did not belong to her. Hermione – a very much alive Hermione – was looking crossly at Ron and Harry.

"Her…Hermione?" Ron sputtered out.

"Ron, what are you doing?" Her voice was tired and frustrated, as if she were inquiring Ron about him trekking ashes from the fireplace through the living room, not throttling Malfoy to death. "Let him go."

Still stunned, Ron's arms fell to the wayside. Malfoy shook them off and stepped away from Ron, scowling at him.

"What were you doing?" Hermione demanded.

"You're alive?" Harry asked, still in disbelief.

Hermione sighed almost impatiently. "Yes."

"But… but the blood." Ron pointed uncertainly at Hermione's blood drenched clothes and hair. "It's all over you. Your face, your jumper…"

"It's not mine."

"Then whose…?"

"If you hadn't been so quick to jump to conclusions, Weasley," Malfoy drawled, "you might have noticed the body behind Hermione."

Harry finally stepped completely into the room and strode across the bedroom to where Hermione and Narcissa Malfoy were seated. Concealed by the chairs was Lucius Malfoy, his body splayed across the floor and a pool of blood growing underneath him. "Merlin," he muttered.

"You might want to heal him before he bleeds out, Potter, if you want him still alive," Malfoy said quietly. "_Sectumsempra_. You remember – the one you cast on me in sixth year."

Harry raised his wand and cast the songlike incantation Snape had taught to him. The wounds on Lucius's face immediately healed, and though Harry could not see what other wounds Malfoy's curse had inflicted, the bleeding seemed to have stopped. Harry kneeled next to the elder Malfoy's prostrated body and checked manually for a pulse. "He's alive, but barely," Harry declared. "We need to get him to St. Mungo's as quickly as possible if he is to live."

He would have expected a sarcastic remark from Ron, but his friend was busy tending to Hermione – or at least, he was _attempting_ to tend to Hermione.

"I'm fine, Ron." Hermione pushed aside the arm that Ron had offered her to help her up.

"No, you're not! You've been Malfoy's captive. You're probably tired and hungry." Ron shoved his arm in front of her again. "You need support."

Hermione stubbornly tried to get up by herself and crumbled back into her chair when her legs gave out from under her. Harry could see she was a little dismayed by her inability to stand on her own as her expression visibly dropped. Almost reluctantly, she took Ron's arm, and he helped her to her feet. None of this went unnoticed by Malfoy. It appeared as if he were completely engrossed in looking over his mother to ensure she was unharmed, but Harry could tell his attention was elsewhere. Malfoy gently wrapped an arm around his mother and lifted her up slowly.

"We can Floo to St. Mungo's. My mother and Hermione need care as well," Malfoy said.

Harry nodded. "Lead the way."

x x x

Hermione shifted under the starchy white sheets, feeling slightly restless. She had insisted that she was fine, but Harry and Ron had insisted back that she have the mediwitches look over her. The elderly mediwitch who had received her said, save for a few scratches and slight malnourishment from her brief captivity, Hermione was fine. Hermione had then felt triumphant and demanded to be released, but Harry and Ron had coaxed the mediwitch into keeping Hermione overnight for observation, despite Hermione's protests.

While she knew they had her best interests at heart, she also knew they knew she hated being stuck in a bed, kept out of the loop. Which is where she was now. She had been in this room for hours now without any information about what was happening. After they had left Malfoy Manor, Hermione had lost track of Draco. He had disappeared down another hall with his mother in tow.

Draco's fate hung in the balance. Hermione bit her lip, remembering the events of that day. So much had happened, and as she went over them in her head, everything felt a bit like a blur. The moments had inched by, and yet… Now it was all over.

He had broken his probation. _No_, Hermione mentally shook her head. That… that was almost a relief compared to what she thought he might do. What he nearly did. Would he have killed her? In that brief moment before Draco uttered the incantation, Hermione had, for the first time, experienced complete uncertainty in him. She didn't know what he was going to do. She didn't have that faith that he loved her enough to do what was right.

But now that he had, she was still unsure of whether or not that faith had been restored.

_Knock knock_. Hermione's head turned toward the door.

"Yes?"

The door opened slightly. Through the crack, a familiar redhead stuck her head through. "Can I come in?" Ginny asked.

Hermione hesitated briefly before smiling and nodding the affirmative. Ginny pushed through the door and shut it quietly behind her. She walked across the room and took the chair right by Hermione's bedside.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm all right," Hermione replied. "Honestly? I don't think I need to be here, but Harry and Ron basically bribed the nurses into keeping me here overnight."

"They're just being overprotective," Ginny said. "You know how they can be."

"I do," said Hermione, rolling her eyes. "It's a bit frustrating."

Ginny smiled. "They mean well." After a moment's pause, she added, "They always have, you know."

Hermione wasn't sure how to respond. She had known this conversation was coming. She had played it out many times in her head already, and each time, she had run out of things to say by the time they reached this part. What could she say? That she understood? No – that would merely justify the terrible thing they had done, that she endorsed the route they had chosen. That she was angry and never wanted to see them again? But neither was true. They had been her family for so long, and no matter what they had done or would do, they were a part of her. Perhaps, then, that she forgave them? But her heart wasn't quite ready or sure…

"We were stupid." Ginny said plainly, cutting through Hermione's whirlwind of thoughts. "Three years ago – what we did. It was stupid."

Ginny sighed and looked down, her hands fiddling with the hem of her shirt. Hermione could see the tired lines under Ginny's eyes.

"What Ron did," Ginny continued firmly, "was abominable. And that Harry and I covered it up – unforgiveable. So I won't insult you with saying I'm sorry, Hermione, even though I'm sorrier than you could ever imagine. Because I know it goes far beyond that. We stole away a part of you and let you live without knowing the truth. Nothing we could do could ever make that up or give you those three years back. I suppose we deluded ourselves with the belief that we were doing what was best for you."

"You were wrong." Hermione was surprised at how angry and cruel her voice sounded. It was then she knew, truly, how angry she had been.

Ginny smiled bitterly. "I know," she said quietly.

"And you knew it, at the time," continued Hermione. She was sitting up a little straighter now as her words gained momentum. "You knew what you were doing was wrong, that it wouldn't have been what I wanted. No matter how much Draco hurt me, I wouldn't have wanted that – _him_ – erased. And even a few days ago, when you _knew_ I didn't know – you still acted as if you were right."

"Like you said," Ginny said softly, "I was wrong."

Hermione sat there, stunned. It wasn't much like Ginny to admit she was wrong.

"I was angry that you'd leave Ron and Aiden for Malfoy whom I still believed to be a traitor. I let my prejudices get in the way. And now I see that I was wrong in every possible way about Malfoy, and that his only crime three years ago was that he was confused."

So here it was. The moment Hermione had known would come, and she wasn't sure which road to take. She had spent so long being furious at Harry, Ron, and Ginny, at what they did – what they had taken away from her. Many times in her mind, she had spurned their disingenuous pleas for forgiveness, but never had Hermione imagined this humble plea. Ginny had gone far beyond what Hermione had ever imagined she would have been willing to do. There was no air of superiority like there had been a few days ago. And there was no rage at what they had called Hermione's betrayal. No – there was only open vulnerability and sincerity.

The part of her whose pride was hurt, the part that wanted to hold out, was slowly disintegrating. She could scornfully reject Ginny's apology. It was completely within her right. And she had the power to hurt them as much as she had been hurt.

But what was the use?

Hermione now knew then that all her practice runs of what she would say to Ginny when she saw her again had been in vain. Girding herself for war and the moment when she would have that opportunity to hurt Ron, Harry, and Ginny had only made her angrier and more hateful. And that – anger and hate – were the very last things that were needed at this moment.

"Well, to be fair," Hermione said measuring her words carefully, "he's still confused."

Ginny looked up quickly, obviously taken aback by Hermione's response, but when she saw the look in Hermione's eyes, Ginny laughed.

The sound of Ginny's laughter broke down whatever was left of the wall separating the two of them, and Hermione felt as if a huge weight was suddenly lifted off her shoulders.

"I've missed you, Hermione." Ginny's eyes were sparkling with held back tears. "Things… things just haven't been right. And I know they'll never be the same again, but I'm just hoping after this we can all…" Ginny's voice trailed off.

"I know," Hermione said. "I hope so, too. This – this is a start."

Ginny smiled at her and reached out for Hermione's hand, clasping it gently in hers. Hermione took her other hand and rested it on Ginny's, returning Ginny's smile. For a while, the two girls sat in the comforting silence shared by two friends who finally understood each other.

"So I'm sure you've been preoccupied with other things," Ginny said slowly, "but in case you've forgotten, Harry and I are marrying in a week."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Really, Gin? You'd think I'd forget that? Even if I had wanted to, it was plastered on every newspaper and tabloid."

Ginny sniggered. "Right. Well, anyway, what I was meaning to say is – if you still wanted to… I'd love for you to be my matron of honour."

"Oh, Gin, of course."

x x x

Draco sat outside his mother's room, his elbows resting on his knees and his body leaned forward. She was all right, they told him. Her injuries were minor. She'd live.

Thank Merlin for that, he supposed.

Now he sat alone, in the drafty halls of the hospital. Trying his damndest not to think about what he couldn't help but keep replaying in his head. Draco felt the dread growing in his stomach when he saw Harry walking down the hall towards him. Draco kept his eyes cast down at the floor in front of him as Harry neared. Harry sat in the seat right next to Draco, not looking at him nor saying a single word. He sat there silently for a few brief moments.

"How is your mother?"

The words startled Draco slightly as he had not expected Harry to say anything so soon, least of all to inquire after his mother. He collected himself quickly and cleared his throat. "She is recovering. The mediwizard say she has a few wounds, but nothing severe. She will stay the night and most probably be allowed to return home tomorrow."

Harry nodded. After a moment's pause, he spoke again. "Your father is alive. Barely, but he is breathing."

Draco nodded, unsure of whether or not he was glad. A few hours ago, he had wanted his father dead. Gone. His existence erased. But now, a few hours later, the heat of the moment was gone, and Draco no longer felt that burning desire to see Lucius's life ended. Out of his life? Yes. But dead?

Harry measured Draco's response and gave him a wry smile. "Of course, none of us are all too certain about our feelings regarding that bit of news." When Draco failed to respond, Harry cleared his throat. "I'm here of course, to discuss the incident regarding his break-in at Malfoy Manor."

Draco stared at him dumbly, his heart dropping faster than a freefalling ton of bricks. This was it.

"When I report this incident to the Ministry tomorrow," Harry said quietly, but with obvious certainty, "I will tell them that Lucius Malfoy sustained several serious injuries from his escape from Azkaban which were later aggravated and made worse when he first kidnapped Hermione and then later accosted you and your mother at Malfoy Manor – which he entered illegally. I will tell them that you did your best and acted honourably to protect two innocent hostages until Ron and I arrived and were able to incapacitate Lucius. In the crossfire, Lucius somehow managed to attain certain wounds of unknown origin. Perhaps one of his spells backfired and landed on him."

Draco's jaw almost dropped to the floor. Harry was all but telling him that he planned to _lie_ to the Ministry about Draco's use of the Dark Arts. In his anger and fury, Draco had allowed his emotions get the better of him and he had cast the vilest spell he could think of. _Secumseptra_ had come out of his mouth before he could even control the urge. But the curse was Dark and forbidden by his probation. Foolishly, Draco had done it anyway. Breaking probation would have sent Draco back to Azkaban, something Draco had assumed that Harry would have done with relish. But here, given that golden opportunity…

"I don't understand." Draco was still staring. "You have this chance to lock me up again. You would jump at a chance to do that. So why?"

In very carefully chosen words, Harry said, "I'm doing what I should have done three years ago. That is – giving you the benefit of the doubt. Three years ago, I lied to throw you into Azkaban because I let my feelings cloud my better judgment. I lied about your involvement in the Order of the Phoenix and your loyalty and marred your name and reputation. That lie cost you more than just three years of your life. It was wrong. This – what I'm doing now – this is right. It doesn't undo what has been done, but it's something of a start."

"But the blood, the mess – the other Aurors will know once they take a look at the scene. Aren't Kingsley and the others there right now?"

"Let me worry about that," Harry said firmly. "I'll take care of it."

Silence.

"Thank you," Draco finally managed to get out. Still, disbelief surged through his mind. Was this real?

Harry gave him a crooked smile. "Don't thank me," he said. "I owed you one, big time."

Draco laughed dryly. "So we're even now?"

"More or less." Harry shrugged. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Turning his head slightly, he looked at Draco sitting next to him. "You know, three years ago, I shouldn't have given up on you so quickly."

"You saw what you saw." Draco pressed his arms tightly to his sides, trying to calm himself. "If I were you, I'd have come to the same conclusion."

Harry shook his head. "No. I knew better. Dumbledore trusted you, and so should have I. He trusted Snape completely, even when everyone else turned their backs on Snape."

"Well, sorry to say it Potter, but you're no Dumbledore."

"No, I guess not." Harry chuckled dryly.

Draco shrugged, trying to remain indifferent. "It was war. I had a bad track record. What else were you supposed to think?"

"I was supposed to think that things aren't always what they seem. And I knew. I knew it wasn't so simple, or so clean cut. I think somewhere I wanted to believe…" Harry leaned back. "Look, what I'm trying to say is… I'm sorry."

Draco was slightly stunned. He had not expected that. "Ah."

"We were almost friends three years ago," Harry continued, "but…"

"Potter, I don't think we can ever be _chums_."

"Maybe not," conceded Harry. "But – we can be friendly. We can start there."

Draco paused a beat. "Perhaps," he finally conceded.

Harry smiled warmly at him. "I don't believe I ever thanked you for saving Hermione's life. So thank you, Draco."

"It was nothing," Draco mumbled. "I did nothing."

"No – that's not true. I don't know what happened in that room there. I don't ever care to know, unless you want to tell me. But I can guess. And I can tell you had to make a difficult decision in there." Harry stared straight ahead. "And this time, you made the right one."

"But three years ago…"

"That doesn't matter anymore," Harry said. "You made a mistake then… but you've changed from that person you were three years ago."

Draco nodded, his body beginning to relax. His mind was still spinning.

"How is Hermione?" he managed to utter.

Harry looked at him. "She's doing fine. She's staying over night for observation but will be released tomorrow." Harry stood up. "Come. I'll take you to her room. I'm sure she'll be wanting to see you."

"No."

Now it was Harry's turn to stare at Draco blankly. "No?"

"I… I don't think that would be wise."

"Malfoy, I …"

"No, Harry." Draco's voice was quiet but firm. "Too much has happened. I don't – No. I just can't. Not right now."

"Are you sure? I really think you should see her."

Draco was silent. "I am sure."

Harry shook his head. "You're being thick. But all right. Well, is there anything you'd like me to tell her for you, then? Until you do see her."

"No." Draco sat back down. "No, not at all."

"Nothing?"

Draco bobbed his head slightly, indicating the affirmative. Harry sighed.

"After all the two of you have been through, you're really going to just let it be like this?"

"I don't feel like explaining to you, Potter," Draco said, with a bit of edge in his voice.

"Fine," Harry said. He threw up his arms, signaling his surrender. "I can't force you to talk to her. But you should, Malfoy. For both your sakes."

Draco watched wordlessly as Harry walked down the hallway, his form getting smaller and smaller in the distance until he vanished around the corner. Then, he remained there, staring down the empty hall in silent wonder.

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**AN: **Thanks for reading. :) Review if you like.


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